


How To Sell Butterflies

by potentialfordisaster



Category: Thor (Movies) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Beach/Summer Love, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff, Highschool First Date, M/M, One Night Stands, One Shot Collection, Romance, Smut, Some Humor, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-31
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-18 08:53:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 28,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4699883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potentialfordisaster/pseuds/potentialfordisaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of ficlets and fics - some big, some small: I just drop things here. I think they are nice but you may want to take a look yourself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On My Way to Other Unhealthy Inclinations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> : Chris thought he had been special, but word on the theatre was out that Tom was as easy as they came. 
> 
> Featuring: infatuated!chris. Warnings: heartbreaking and angst but the ending is cross-eyeing fluff. 
> 
> May change some things later though it's more probable I'll forget about it.
> 
> _about 4,263 words_

-

 

"He's lovely." Chris said while snooping looks at his costar, talking animatedly to the director at a distance. Hannah, his friend, followed his furtive looks and grinned, agreeing on a more casual tone "He's nice, yes."

Chris was preparing to leave the theatre after their first rehearsal. Some of the other actors and actresses had already left, leaving only him, Hannah and Tom behind. Chris was dying for a chance to talk to the other actor alone but he had promised Hannah a ride home. Still, he couldn't make himself stop looking at him, delaying their departure in pursuit of a moment to at least wave him goodbye.

Hannah rolled her eyes and Chris supposed he was looking too starstruck. "You know, I can catch the bus, no problem," she murmured.

"But I promised you." It was late and the city wasn't known for being one hundred percent non-violent to lonely women. Hannah sighed, "Right, I'll wait for you outside so you can have a chance to charm Cinderella there." She tilted her head towards Tom, smirking before walking away.

Chris didn't even try correcting her, his intentions towards Tom were too obvious. He kept a keen ear in his and the director's talk while pretending to arrange his things for the third time. Tom had a very soft laugh, smooth and velvety. Chris heard as the topic died down, their murmured goodbyes and then footsteps approaching. Clearing his throat quietly, Chris hooked his bag on a shoulder, checking the time on his cell phone and walking to the exit, where he would cross ways with Tom.

"Hey,"Chris said after lifting his eyes to Tom as if just noticing him there. Subtle, Chris, subtle.

"Oh, hi!" Tom smiled, and god, his teeth were perfect, his face lighting up.

Chris scratched the back of his head. "Nice performance, mate. You're very good."

Tom's eyes widened, visibly surprised and pleased. He blinked as though he hadn't heard right. "Wow, thank you- I- That's really nice, god, thank you." He laughed shyly, "Sorry but it means a lot to me, you know how it is, right?" Tom shrugged, but before Chris could get a word in he continued "Self-doubt and everything, acting is really hard and you usually have more people to criticize your choice than to support it."

Tom's face fell a little. He clearly had had or still had problems with his choice of career, it appeared, probably remembering something nasty someone had told him. Chris felt suddenly overprotective, wanting to find out who had the audacity to doubt Tom and make him unsure of himself. "I know how it is," he said, Tom glancing his way, smiling quickly and grabbing his things. "I moved all the way from Australia just to have a shot here."

"That's fantastic," Tom said, so open in his enthusiasm and admiration that Chris was ready to kneel and propose.

They made small talk while leaving the theatre, the janitor jingling the keys and glaring at them. Hannah stood waiting next to Chris' car, smirking upon catching sight of them. "Oh," Tom mumbled, staring at her, "I didn't know she was waiting for you, sorry."

Chris was afraid Tom had mistook Hannah for his girlfriend, and hurried to explain "It's okay, I always give her a ride 'cause, you know, these parts are dangerous, and for a girl to walk by herself at night..."

"That's really nice of you, truly." Tom smiled, looking up at Chris with renewed admiration.

Chris wondered if Hannah would mind if he offered Tom a ride too, but before he could ask Tom was already saying goodbye. "See you next week, Chris!"

Chris made his way to his car with his mouth hanging open. Hannah laughed shortly at his expression and hopped on the car. "I know you're too dazed to speak, but please don't hit a tree."

 

~*~

 

"Do you think I should ask him out on a date?" Chris asked, watching as Tom interacted with another of their costars, bending and hugging his belly with a hand when the other said something funny. His ass poked adorably on his sweatpants, and Chris was jealous because he wanted to make him laugh like that.

"Yes," Hannah answered, very patiently for someone who had been asked that question at least twice in the last hour.

"But what if he refuses?"

"He won't."

"How can you be so sure?"

Hannah sighed longsufferingly. "Chris, take a look around you. You see all these people here? You're by far the hottest of them, even the manager has sent you bedroom eyes. Trust me, Tom will not refuse you." She turned her eyes to him before grinning and looking away. "And if he does, then I can say he's very dumb."

 

~*~

 

"Hey there, mate." Chris greeted, finally sneaking beside Tom.

"Hi, Chris, how is it going?" Tom smiled, putting a beanie over his curls, Chris already missing the sight of them.

"Good, uhm-" Chris looked down at his hands, squeezing and playing with his bottle of water. "Listen, Tom, I was wondering," He paused, raising his eyes to Tom, who had an adorable grin in place, blue eyes shining. It was clear he knew what Chris intended on asking, and his eyes sparkled _yes_. "Would you like to grab a coffee sometime?"

 

~*~

 

Pale legs and smooth skin, the firm taper of a waist, small and dusky nubs stiffening under Chris' tongue, the warm and gentle cradle of hips enclosing Chris', breathy moans and nails clawing at his back. Tom was divine, and Chris couldn't get enough of him in a single night, in a single hour, time wasn't enough to stopper his desire.

Tom writhed prettily underneath him, pulling Chris hungrily for a kiss, so earnest. He whined once, when Chris pushed in, but held on tight, hands firm in Chris' hair, hissing under his breath and extending his pale throat, veins bulging.

Chris loved the way Tom's body moved, accompanying the heave of his thrusts, the bed creaking along. He was searing hot inside, wringing Chris' cock like a vice, making all his thoughts sweep away in a cloud. Chris couldn't recall how it had ended up like this; one minute they were in a coffee shop, Tom laughing repeatedly, eyes glinting, a foot running up the inside of Chris' calf and almost making him choke when Tom leaned in to whisper that he had loved the conversation but his flat was only a couple blocks down, and Chris, like any other man, had skittered after him without a second thought, eager in his haste.

Tom liked kissing while fucking, and this Chris could do literally with his eyes closed. He also let out some crazy loud moans sometimes, like when Chris hit his prostate and made his cock leak out pearly beads. Tom hissed and his head lolled as though he was being put through the most pleasurable experience of his life. He was so expressive in all his delight that Chris had his ego boasted, hips slamming in with more and more force and faster, Chris, faster-!

When Tom came, Chris stuttered in his thrusts, eyes glued on the figure that spasmed beneath him, nails clawing at his biceps, mouth gaping after air, moaning once, twice and then in a sob, collapsing in his arms, lost in bliss. It was the most beautiful sight Chris had ever seen, and heart fluttering, he groaned and slammed in again, the sound of their skin slapping like music to his ears, until he too came in a swoop, clinging to Tom.

They giggled and kissed once more before Tom's eyes started to droop, but in the middle of the night, he woke and pulled Chris to him with a whiny moan, skin viscous with their old spend mixed together and their dry sweat. None of it mattered, of course, and Chris was more than happy to oblige when Tom got on his hands and knees and thrust his ass in the air as though Chris was all he needed. He was desperate, and before dawn, they had fucked four times in total.

Chris was seriously considering the possibility of Tom being a nymphomaniac, but when he woke up to his smiley face, he forgot about it like a gust of wind had taken his thoughts with it and jumped out the window. Tom made them coffee, and sat down next to Chris with both mugs in hand, wearing a shirt with a loose collar that fell past his shoulder, leaving the purple imprint of Chris' teeth there visible.

"Morning," Tom giggled, his skin glowing like he had undergone a long facial treatment instead of a long night of wild sex.

"Morning," Chris replied, lips breaking out in a smile, making sure to hold the back of Tom's neck to plant a deep kiss on his mouth. Tom blushed and looked down, his smile turning weird as if Chris had just missed a cue and he was too polite to point it out.

After finishing his coffee, Chris managed to drag Tom by the waist for more kisses, but the other's laugh began to shorten after each and every kiss and his hand on Chris' collar had a slight pressure that was perhaps meant to push him away kindly? Every time Chris parted for breath Tom opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something but Chris never spared him the time, he was too elated with everything Tom, with his hair and his smell and his lips and his laughter and his kind eyes.

"So," Tom paused at the door, after Chris had stayed in for lunch though Tom had more than once murmured an excuse about how his sister was coming to visit him in a couple hours. "I had a lovely time, Chris, thank you." He said, a hand playing with the doorknob. He was adorable, and Chris couldn't take his eyes away from him. "I think..." Tom looked up at him quickly before staring at the wall again, grimacing as though he was embarrassed for some reason. "We'll see each other at the theatre. Bye." He finished with a small wave of his hand, but before Chris could return the gesture, Tom was closing the door on his face.

Chris sighed throughout all the way home. The world seemed brighter, and he even helped an old lady cross the street though she insisted she could do it herself repeatedly. Some people were so polite. Like Tom, Chris laughed. Tom was so polite. Chris wanted to meet his mother to compliment the good education she had given her son, perhaps she kept photos of Tom as a baby too, Chris could bet he had been the most beautiful, peaceful and giggly baby ever.

His mind kept replaying their night together and upon arriving at his flat, Chris had to take a cold shower after relieving himself.

It seemed like a chorus of cherubins had taken residence inside his head, except all of them had Tom's face and Tom's body and wore thin pieces of cloth that slid down their bodies teasingly and Chris was there to pull them down and swallow their moans while thrusting into them.

Chris was suspended in some sort of side effect, staring at the television's black screen for long minutes. He couldn't wait to see Tom again. He messaged Hannah and told her all about last night, his friend responding with a short 'wow' before Chris suffocated her with more details to which she typed in a small laugh before adding that 'I knew he'd be good in bed'.

Chris frowned. What do you mean? he typed, but Hannah didn't answer him until he was already lying in bed at night, trying not to think about Tom.

'I mean,' Hannah answered, the phone vibrating on his bedside table. 'he's kind of.. u know?'

'No' Chris was quick to respond, wondering what was it that Hannah seemed to know about Tom. 'What do u mean?'

'Never mind,' Hannah finished.

 

~*~

 

Tom seemed to be avoiding him and Chris' heart wrenched in his chest. He spent most of the rehearsal staring at him and when Tom met his eyes, he was quick to smile and look away as if Chris' insistent staring was off-putting. Which Chris supposed it was.

"Chris!" Hannah hissed quietly in admonishment when they were both stretching their limbs before the group preparation, "Stop it."

Chris flicked his gaze to her before settling it on Tom again, who was nodding patiently to something David, one of his costars, was saying. Chris extended his hand until his fingertips touched his big toe, not minding the uncomfortable and painful stretch behind his knees. He swallowed, his eyes feeling heavy and his head pounding with the effort it took to understand why Tom was doing that to him. "He-" Chris sighed, retrieving his hand and avoiding Hannah's elbow as she stretched her arm behind her head. "I don't get it, Hannah. Do you think I did something wrong?"

Hannah looked at him pitifully, pressing her lips together in a grimace before looking away. "Maybe he'll talk to you later," she shrugged with an assuring smile.

But Tom didn't talk to him later. Neither that day nor the next.

Chris felt akin to an abandoned puppy, and according to Hannah, he also looked like it. He was completely against the idea of going after Tom, he had tried to before only to have the other actor practically running away when catching sight of him.

Hannah had invited herself over so they could review the script together then leave for the bar. "Chris, this needs to stop, seriously."

Chris, eyeing the script with a mug of tea - Tom's favourite, he had seen on his shelf -, lifted his eyes. "What?"

Hannah breathed in patiently, shutting her eyes before releasing her breath in a tiny huff. "This obsession of yours with Tom, it needs to stop."

Chris shook his head, putting his mug atop the coffee table. "I don't know, Hannah," he shrugged. "I can't help it. And now he won't even speak to me, I don't know what I've done, I thought we were doing so good, we spent such a wonderful night together, I thought things were progressing but-"

"Chris," Hannah cut him, her face serious and cold. "Don't... do that. Tom is not the sort of person-" She sighed, staring at her lap before shaking her head slightly. Chris was looking at her intently now. He had always felt Hannah had been hiding something from him all along. "Chris, Tom sleeps around."

There, she said it. Chris snorted and Hannah cut her gaze to him sharply. "That's ridiculous- How- Where have you heard such a thing?"

"Everyone knows it." Hannah shrugged while making a face. "And it's kind of obvious, really."

Chris licked his lips, not standing to imagine that Tom- Sweet, kind Tom, with his friendliness and his easy smile, his fond admiration and care for everyone. Surely he didn't- "But Tom is so different. He's- he's special."

Hannah shook her head, cupping her hand over Chris' as if patting his pain away. "He does, Chris. I'm so sorry."

Chris swallowed, a hundred thoughts usurping his mind. "Then when we," he paused, "It meant..." Nothing. He had been a notch in Tom's belt. He wanted to ask Hannah who else had slept with Tom but refrained himself.

 

~*~

 

Chris was listening to more sad songs now, tutting their beat under his breath while staring at the ceiling. The only thing that freed him from absolute sadness was the memorizing of his script, the second part of his mind that was attuned to his acting filling his senses, leaving him as white sheet of paper to be written on.

In a way, he could benefit. After a week, he had no more expectations or hopes that Tom would come up to him, and seeing as Chris' character was of the brooding type, he could transmit most part of his feelings towards his role.

While rehearsing, Chris' character argued with David's, and in a rush of feelings, Chris spilled his words passionately, gesturing wildly, not noticing when his voice rose and everyone went silent around them. All he could see was David and his pain looped in the words and feelings of another that served the same purpose. When he was done, Chris' chest was heaving with his breaths while David, wide-eyed, stared at him along with the small crowd of actors and staff that had formed around them in a semi-circle.

Someone clapped, and Chris turned to see the director. "Marvelous, Christopher! Absolutely perfect! Perfect!"

The corner of Chris' mouth quirked slowly, and he smiled embarrassedly. Everyone was staring at him with some sort of admiration, and when involuntarily, Chris' gaze fell on Tom, he found the other actor frozen, mouth parted slightly, staring at him in complete awe and some weird form of jealousy, a hand cupped around his own elbow as if he wanted to protect himself: as if he knew Chris' outburst had been directed at him.

Gulping, it was Chris' turn to be quick and look away, nodding when Hannah patted his shoulder congratulatorily.

 

~*~

 

Chris said his goodbyes after finally managing to escape the director's hold on him, the man talking non-stop about the next play he was planning for the next season and that Chris should definitely audition for the leading role. Striding out the back door, Chris stood in place, breathing out slowly in a white puff. Hannah was probably waiting for him by his car, and Chris would've immediately gone to her if he hadn't heard a sniff somewhere nearby.

Turning his head around, Chris' eyes flew around the dark alleyway, finding a small figure leaning against one of the brick walls. Its face was shrouded in darkness but Chris' heart jumped in his chest and he knew it was Tom.

"Tom?"

Tom instantly straightened himself, surprised for being found. Chris could see the shape of his head as he turned it away, a hand coming up to wipe at his face. "Chris? Oh, I didn't see you there, hn-" His voice was nasal and it was clear he had been crying.

Chris stepped up to him and a faint light from the street cleared Tom's features. His eyes were red around the edges, and so were his cheeks, though the cold could have something to do with that. They stood in front of each other, Tom giving a quick smile and looking down while trying to recompose himself and Chris without knowing what to do, staring at him in confusion and a heavy heart.

"Is everything all r-"

"Yes!" Tom cut in, swallowing and flicking his gaze away.

Chris blinked, nodding slightly before finding the courage to ask "Were you crying?"

Tom gave a short laugh, shaking his head in a indeterminate affirmation. "You could... I believe you could say so. It's-" he paused, staring intently to the other side. Chris waited. "It's difficult."

What is difficult, to sleep around with everyone? Chris thought, bitterly, but pressed his lips together. He held no resentment for Tom, but he didn't like knowing he had been used as a living-dildo, that Tom would never think to return his feelings in any capacity. It was shaming for Chris. Tom had the liberty to sleep with anyone he so wished as long as it was consensual, but Chris was a fool enough to believe in some sort of fairy tale monogamy, that he had been Tom's one and only just like he had thought Tom was to him.

"I-" Tom said, breathing out and finally turning to Chris. "I don't know if I can do it sometimes, which is," he huffed. "A waste of my parents' money. My father hates what I chose to be but paid for my education anyway. And now I'm not sure I can do it."

Chris nodded, because he didn't know what else to do.

"And you're so- You're so talented, Chris." Tom said, like it pained him to do so. "I wish I had half the talent you have."

"Tom, I didn't lie when I said you're very good." Chris cut in, because it was the truth and he hated to see Tom sad and thinking himself lesser than he was. "I have no doubt of your talent. You're amazing."

Tom blinked at him, taken aback by his sincerity before squirming and biting his lip. "The director doesn't think so..." he whispered, and blushed when he felt Chris had heard it.

"Fuck the director!" Chris exclaimed, Tom's eyes widening. "He is a toady and knows nothing about real talent."

Tom's mouth was hanging open, looking at Chris as though he couldn't believe he had said that. Then he laughed. "Oh my god, did he hear you?" Tom asked, eyeing the door to the theatre, where the director and some part of the crew were still in.

"I don't know," Chris turned to watch the door, Tom clutching his jacket as they laughed and ducked not to be seen if someone was to exit and look after them. "I think we're safe." Chris murmured, cupping Tom's shoulders.

Tom nodded, and they were close, so close Chris could feel Tom's curls beneath his chin. "Chris," Tom said, eyes slipping to Chris' lips before looking up again, "I- I'm sorry about... you know?"

Chris let go of his shoulders, nodding and shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. He didn't want to talk about it. They could just forget it had ever happened.

"I didn't get a chance to tell you because I was..." Tom sighed, "A little scared, I admit. But it was just sex, right?"

Chris nodded, swallowing forcefully. Tom had no idea how much it hurt. "Great," Tom continued, "Because I thought that you, you know," Chris squared his jaw, flicking his gaze to the end of the alleyway where his car was parked, wanting to flee as Tom continued, "That you had," Tom stopped, catching Chris' downturned eyes, his eyebrows pinching in sympathy as he _understood_. "Oh, Chris," he moaned, laying a hand on his shoulder, "I'm so sorry, so, so sorry, I had no idea that you felt that way, otherwise I wouldn't have... made it worse."

Chris shrugged. "It's nothing, I- I should go." He took three steps before Tom was shouting for him, "Chris, wait! Wait, I-"

Tom ran up to him, Chris stopping where he was until the other actor came face to face with him. His nose was red and he looked beautiful, just the sight of him had Chris' heart pulling. "I'm not used to serious relationships, hn," Tom looked to the side, sighing, "But I really like you, you're a really nice guy-"

"Then why didn't you tell me that before instead of ignoring me?"

Tom wrung his hands together, flicking his blue eyes up embarrassedly. "Because I was under the impression that you knew, and I was embarrassed and scared because you seemed like a nice guy and no one had ever kissed me the day after and it was a little-" he shrugged, Chris' mouth hanging open, "Nice." Tom murmured, his breath leaving in a white cloud almost to accentuate his words. "Very nice, indeed."

Chris couldn't stand those red, pouty lips nor the golden curls that slipped past Tom's beanie, nor those sharp cheekbones. That's why he grabbed Tom up and kissed the life out of him against that brick wall until his whimpers turned familiar, Tom yanking Chris' collar to pull him closer, mouths slotted.

Chris wanted to scream because he was the happiest he had ever felt and Tom was beautiful and his mouth tasted delicious. "My house or yours?" He asked, delighting in Tom's giggles and doing his best to reach his neck underneath his scarf.

"Yours," Tom answered breathily, beaming and kissing him again, tongues sliding, a hand firmly secure in Chris' hair. "Yours."

 

-

* they had protective sex though I didn't mention it there


	2. Children's Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> : Chris loooves children, even more so when they score him dates with handsome runners at the park. 
> 
> Featuring: flirty!chris and his small niece. No warnings.
> 
> Previously posted on [Tumblr](http://potentialfordisaster.tumblr.com/post/126919961756/only-two-weeks-left-before-my-semester-is-over).
> 
> _about 1,256 words_

-

 

"No, Chris," Luke cut him off, back turned to him as he chopped vegetables for dinner. "I've told you before, I won't let you use my children to find yourself dates."

Chris huffed, Luke always had a way of putting it that left him embarrassed. They were at Luke's kitchen today, it was Sunday and Nina, Chris' three year old niece, had been clutching her father's leg all day long because she wanted him to take her to the park. Chris offered to take her - because he was a good brother and an even better uncle - but received Luke's reproachful stare as a reward.

The thing was that small kids always attracted attention at the park. Chris had taken Nina and her older brother to the park some time ago and he had been pleasantly surprised to find himself surrounded by women and men that cooed at the kids and sent him admiring looks. He had ended up with a handful of numbers shoved into his back pocket before Luke had found out about it and forbidden him to parade his children around again.

"But she wants to go," Chris insisted, and Nina sent her father a pleading look. Luke seemed troubled, like he was really thinking about it, and seizing his chance, Chris amended, "It's Sunday, look, I'll just take her to the playground and keep an eye on her. She just wants to have fun, don't you, Nina?"

The little girl turned to him and nodded, and her father, sighing, twisted his lips and sent Chris a last hard look before consenting and telling him to be careful, please.

 

~*~

 

The park was sunny and Chris carried Nina in his arms. It worked like magic, and a woman that was jogging spared them a look before her eyes glowed, "Oh my god, what an adorable little girl!"

Chris, shrugging, smiled proudly and agreed. Nina blinked and stared at the woman in confusion but as she and Chris began to talk, the little girl's attention was caught and she tugged on Chris' collar, pointing at the playground at a distance. "Of course, darling, let's go to the playground."

The woman followed them and not one minute later another joined. Chris left Nina at the swings while he talked them up at a corner of the playground. "She's three, actually, my niece," Chris said and the women nodded robotically, "I'm single but you know, I just love children." They looked about to swoon.

The women left after giving him their numbers, waving and smiling before another small group showed up. "Is that your daughter? She's lovely. I have a small boy myself, but I'm divorced, what about you?" A woman that looked to be in her forties said, and though Chris smiled, he was taken aback by the way her eyes seemed to suck his soul in. He mumbled something incomprehensible in response just so she wouldn't know he was single, and when the woman gave a step closer and said something in a whisper, Chris felt someone tapping his shoulder.

He was prepared to smile radiantly again but the man he found there was so stunning that Chris gaped.

"Uhm, hi." He said, smiling adorably. Curly blondes had never been Chris' type but perhaps he had always been wrong.

"Hello." Chris answered gallantly. The man blushed, red splotches atop his cheekbones as he looked down and gave a short laugh.

The woman behind Chris must've felt ignored and left. Chris was happy to be rid of her but he was even happier to have met this man. He noticed he must've been running because his t-shirt was wet with sweat in some spots.

"I'm sorry to interrupt but-" The man said, a little disconcerted.

"No, it's fine, I wasn't really paying attention." The truth was that Chris felt the woman was one step away from offering him a blowjob behind the bushes and was more than comfortable to let that possibility slide.

The man gave another short and shy laugh before looking down between them and Chris gasped. "Oh, Nina!" His niece was pouting, holding the man's hand in a loose grasp. Chris scooped her up in his arms and noticed her knee was red.

"She slipped off her swing and I managed to catch her just in time but you see," The man explained, "She scraped her knee and I'm so sorry, she told me you were her uncle-"

"Yes," Chris said, eyeing her knee worriedly. Luke was going to kill him.

"Hm," the man shrugged, not knowing what to do now that he'd delivered the little girl safely. There was something in his eyes that looked like disapproval and Chris felt suddenly embarrassed for chatting people up while his niece was in danger. "I hope she'll be fine, there's a drugstore just outside the gate, you can apply some antiseptics-" the man gave a step back, and Chris quickly raised a hand to stop him from going.

"Thank you so much, but wait, can I pay you some coffee or something as a thank you? I was distracted, I'm so sorry-"

The man blushed, "Oh, there's no need, please."

"I insist." Chris said, and was surprised with his own firm and mature voice.

The man blinked before smiling cutely and shrugging, "Okay."

His name was Tom, he was twenty-five and he liked running at the park in the mornings. Chris discovered all that as they made their way to the drugstore Tom had mentioned earlier, and after properly cleansing Nina's knee, Chris paid them ice cream because Tom's eyes shone when he saw the vendor.

"That's really nice of you, thank you." Tom said from behind his strawberry cone.

"It was the least I could do," Chris smiled, Nina happily licking her chocolate ice cream beside his ear. "If it wasn't for you, I would be in a worse situation."

Tom laughed quietly, and they walked back to the park, arms brushing. They both watched Nina as she continued playing in the playground, sat in a low bench to the side and talking. When Luke messaged Chris asking if they were going home already, there was no hiding his disappointment.

"It's okay." Tom said, after they had both stood.

They stared at each other for some time, Chris building up the courage to ask and Tom waiting while struggling not to grin. "Can I have your number?"

Tom laughed, "Sure."

Tom typed in his number, planting a sweet kiss on Chris' cheek before saying a low "Bye, Chris, it was a pleasure meeting you."

Chris watched the way Tom's hips moved as he walked away, and didn't even blush when Tom looked over his shoulder and smirked, catching him looking. Short electric currents roamed his body and sent the most pleasurable feeling he had ever felt. Chris sighed, behind him the sound of metal scraping metal stopped when Nina descended from the swings, her small footsteps coming to a stop beside him as they stood watching Tom's retrieving silhouette before his niece said "He's cute."

 

-


	3. The Good Side of Bad Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> : Life isn't perfect but Tom is too lazy to care. Fortunately, his neighbour decided to call the police on him.
> 
> Featuring: policeofficer!chris and dorkyandlazy!tom. 
> 
> No warnings.
> 
> Previously posted on [Tumblr](http://potentialfordisaster.tumblr.com/post/121566774121/hiddlesworth-ficlet).
> 
>  
> 
> _about 1,190 words_

-

 

Tom woke with a startle. His fan creaked again, not the low creak that he had more or less grown accustomed to, no. A loud, very serious-sounding creak. He rose to turn it off, and decided to begin his day earlier when he checked he had been awoken just eight minutes before his usual time.

His sink still held the dishes from last night’s dinner because he was lazy. The kind of lazy that prefered to let his fan creak away instead of “just call someone already, Tom!”, like his sister Emma used to say. He wondered how could his idle behavior still be brushed off under the excuse that he was a very, very busy kindergarten teacher. Only his mother still fell for that, though he was growing suspicious of the way she sighed when he said it.

Whistling, Tom prepared breakfast on his boxers and a t-shirt, the clothes he had slept on, thank you very much.

Being a responsible 25 year-old was no kidding, he would tell you that. Bills appeared atop his table, inside his mail post, came flying through his window and burst down his ceiling. There was only so much he could keep at bay with his salary, but what could he do? Tom loved his job, watching the children run around and smile cheekily up at him, screaming ‘Tom, Tom!’.

Tom ate in silence, hearing the sound of his neighbor’s lawn mower being turned on. That reminded him of how his own lawn almost reached his knees now, a problem that the neighborhood cared more about than Tom ever would. Mrs Woodley had even appeared on his doorstep once to tell him that it had begun to attract the “community’s” attention, that it was unhealthy and stood out amidst the proper mowed lawns. But Mr Cohen was the worst. A retired eighty year-old, Mr Cohen was responsible for the lawn mower’s noise every damn morning. He had knocked on Tom’s door countless times to scream at him.

“You fix that tomorrow or I’m calling the police!” He had shouted once.

Tom took his dishes to the sink, having the patience to wash all of them, including the ones from last night, and sighing in relief when the lawn mower’s insufferable noise was turned off. Turning to the fridge, Tom had enough time to grab his milk bottle and take a gulp out of the carton before his door was being knocked.

Frowning, Tom went to answer it, paying half a mind to his state of dress.

His eyes almost fell out of its sockets when a police officer appeared in front of him. With short, slicked back blond hair, the officer stood just a little taller than Tom, in his usual but very tight uniform.

“Mr Hiddleston?” He asked, skimming a hand down his short bristles and running his blue eyes over Tom’s choice of clothes.

“Hm, oh, h-hi.” Tom replied, feeling a warm, familiar pulse on his groin, and yes, his bladder was already emptied. The thing was that Tom hadn’t gotten laid in more than a year, and the officer was hot. Not hot like the men that starred on the porns Tom watched but like, ridiculously hot, handsome, shaped to the gods’ form, Men’s Health cover and all.  
Resting against his doorframe, Tom tried to make himself look as alluring as possible with a handful of milk bottle, a striped shirt and probably a ridiculous white mustache he always got whenever drinking out of the carton.

The officer cleared his throat, lifting his eyes to Tom’s face. “Good morning, Mr Hiddleston. Hm, I know this is not a good time to…” His eyes fogged, and flicked to Tom’s lips, no doubt focusing on the white mustache over his lips. “To come…” He whispered, clearing his throat. The officer looked away once before continuing, Tom cleaning his lips with the back of his hand embarrassedly. “To knock on your door, but your neighbor, Mr Cohen, has called us to inform that your uh, garden-” He paused, looking over his shoulder at what was definitely not Tom’s garden. Or even a garden at the matter. “Has been attracting some foul animals that pose a serious danger to public health.” He finished, crossing his big arms and staring at him, waiting for an answer.

“Ahn, I mean, uh- really?” Tom asked, giving a nervous laugh and scratching the back of his neck, making sure that his pale throat stood in the officer’s direct view. “Because I was thinking the same thing.”

The officer didn’t look quite impressed, and raised his eyebrows quickly, giving a faint “Oh?”

Tom nodded and bit his lip, noticing the way the officer’s eyes strayed to follow the movement. “In fact, officer-?” He trailed off, leaning his weight closer to him.

“Ah- Hemsworth, Christopher Hemsworth.” The officer said, nodding after his own words and imperceptibly swinging his balance forward. “At your service.” He finished, staring into Tom’s eyes.

Smiling, Tom let his teeth show. “Chris, that’s a nice name.” A much better one to scream while all that muscle mass moved above him.

Blushing faintly, Chris looked down quickly and chuckled. “Thank you, and Hiddleston is…?”

“Oh, Tom.” He said. “Well, Thomas actually, but you can call me Tom.”

Grinning, Chris nodded, and adjusted his arms purposefully to make the muscles strain, Tom barely containing a hiss. The officer leaned against the doorframe in front of him, clearing his throat and paying close attention to the dip of Tom’s collar and the perfectly pale skin it hid. Tom wished he was wearing a tighter shirt so his peaked nipples would be visible. “So, Tom, hm- about the garden?”

“Oh, yes, so…” Tom licked his lips, swinging the milk bottle on his other hand. “My lawn mower is broken.”

“Really?” Chris asked, sounding like he was more interested in Tom’s thighs and the loose elastic of his boxers over it. “You wouldn’t believe it but I’m very good with lawn mowers.” He said, hinting on a deeper meaning that had Tom wondering how many meanings could 'lawn mower’ have in a sentence.

“That’s great. It looks like I’m in luck.” Tom replied, laying a hand on Chris’ arm for proximity. “You know what, officer.” The way he said Chris’ title was supposed to have come out that breathy, and for the way Chris looked into his eyes, he had liked it. “My.. lawn mower…” He whispered, inching closer until he could feel Chris’s breath on his face. “Is in my bedroom.”

Chris hummed, eyes falling to Tom’s lips. “Well, I think I should take a look right away.” He said, and Tom pulled him inside, door closing before they clung to each other.  
Tom wouldn’t mow his lawn ever again.

 

-


	4. The Eye Move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for [noir-thor's](http://noir-thor.tumblr.com/) prompt on Tumblr: 
> 
> Tom and chris as high school students going on their first date and ending with an awkward first kiss :333
> 
> Pure fluff. No warnings.

-

 

Surely, there had been a mistake. Chris was, of course, a terribly nice guy, but asking Tom out on a date? It seemed too surreal. 

But, surprisingly, it was the truth. Tom had been accosted by Chris while in the hallway, loading books into his locker, hissing under his breath when the lock wouldn't click, when he had felt someone poking his shoulder and had turned to see Chris' smiling face. "Tom?" He asked, as if he wasn't sure that was really Tom's name, as if they hadn't been exchanging lingering looks during classes all throughout the last week. 

"Chris? Hi." Tom smiled, his heart racing. He had thought it was nothing, that their almost virtual flirting would lead nowhere, but as it seemed, Chris didn't think the same, and had asked him on a date right there, while Tom tried to busy himself with his non-functioning lock so Chris wouldn't see his blushing face, though the heat he felt spreading to his ears was telling enough. 

"I'd love to," Tom had ended up saying, afraid his hands were shaking too badly. 

And now, here he was, eyes flicking to the door everytime the bell rang whenever someone walked in. His anxiety was crushing his insides and he wanted to blame it on Chris though he knew it was his fault. He had, after all, walked in twenty minutes earlier. 

This diner was somewhat frequented by other highschool students, and watching the giggling girls in double dates at the other table had Tom freezing inside, feeling weirdly accepted into the circle of teenagers who usually went out and about with boyfriends hanging off their sides. He knew it meant nothing, but felt oddly impressed with himself. 

Chris arrived while Tom was gently trying to ward the waitress off. "Are you sure you don't want anything?" She was asking. 

"No, I- I'm waiting for someone." 

She sent Tom a pitiful look as if not quite believing him or thinking he had been ditched when Chris had appeared behind her. Tom's eyes immediately flew to him, and the waitress promptly scribbled down their orders after Chris had sat himself across Tom, smiling at his shy wave. 

"So..." Tom gulped, staring at Chris, hands folded over the table. He didn't know what to talk about. 

"So..." Chris repeated, looking relaxed as he stretched his arms out and supported his elbows over the table, watching Tom with those ridiculous kind eyes that had him blushing in the first place. "How are you doing?" 

Tom chuckled, looking down at his lap before thinking about something smart to say which ended up being: "Good." 

Chris smiled, assenting. "And your family?" Chris added, and Tom laughed. 

"Good too." 

"Well," Chris paused, eyeing him intently. "My family is good too, but I, on the other hand, I'm very good." 

Tom smirked, blushing. "Really?" 

"Really." 

They had ordered milkshakes, which came with a nice layer of foam on top. Tom drank too much too fast in his agitation, squinting up at Chris as his brain froze. "Are you okay?" Chris asked, worried. 

Tom was quick to nod. "It's-" he pointed at his tall glass. "Freezing." 

Chris laughed, and made sure to suck the liquid as fast as he could just so they would match. 

They talked about school until they were both sharing stories of weird things that had already happened to them. "When I was little," Chris said, "My mother said I shoved a popcorn inside my nose and I almost had to go to the surgery table to take it out." Tom laughed though it was a little weird, but would gladly agree that his story involving the mayonnaise he had splashed all over his face thinking it was a facial treatment wasn't very savory either. 

Unwittingly, he had leaned over the table until his and Chris' faces were close. Chris was saying something about his mother and how he had finally gotten his driver license, eyes flicking insistently to Tom's lips. Tom nodded along though he had to admit he was also raptured by Chris' features. 

Chris slid his hand over Tom's boldly, taking it in a grasp and not even pausing while still telling his story. His hand was warm and Tom's heart tickled, smile spreading on his face. Chris finished telling his story and Tom smiled as was proper, not being able to tell what had happened at the end because Chris was squirming and holding his hand tighter. 

"Tom, I really like you." He said, breathing out afterwards as it the speech had been eating at him throughout the whole time, which perhaps it was. 

"Oh," Tom whispered, though his heart was jumping in contentment. "I- I really like you too, Chris..." 

They stared at each other for what felt like ten seconds before one of the girls at the other table burst out laughing because of something one of the boys said. Tom's eyes flew to the side and when his gaze fell back on Chris, he was leaning closer, eyes shut, mouth pouting. It was a little comical, Tom stared at him as Chris kept on leaning forward and when their lips were about to meet, he emitted a weird sound close to a gurgle. 

It was good, and they kept their lips pressed for some time, Tom enjoying how Chris' lips encompassed his. They separated with a quiet wet noise and Tom immediately smiled. 

"Sorry about that noise." He said, wanting to say something but not knowing exactly what. 

"What noise?" Chris frowned, and they were interrupted by the waitress asking if there was anything else they wanted to order. 

Walking back hand in hand, Chris smiled before pulling Tom closer. "I almost thought I'd have to pull the eye move." 

"What is the eye move?" 

But Chris paused, scratching at his eye. "Is there something in my eye?" 

Tom, innocent, leaned closer to see, truly worried before Chris grabbed his neck and stole a kiss.

 

-


	5. Take a Picture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for [anii-chan's](http://anii-chan.tumblr.com/) prompt on Tumblr:
> 
> Tom think Chris looks hot so he tried to sneaked a picture of Chris and just as he think he's gotten away with it, it turns out that Chris's friend is behind Tom and saw everything. AU (or the other way works too xD!)
> 
> Hope you like it! 
> 
> Featuring: model!chris. No warnings.

-

 

When Ken said there would be hot people attending, Tom hadn't really believed him, but allowed himself to be dragged along to the event regardless. Ken was some sort of photographer or manager or publicist, Tom was never really sure which, and had convinced Tom to accompany him to a 'small thing' one of his friends had planned. The thing was anything but small, at the roof of a hotel Tom had never heard of before. 

The air in here was decidedly cool, Tom thought, glad he had come in his blue suit or he'd have felt terribly underdressed in his jeans. He had shaken hands with Ken's friend, a stoic man whose smile stretched his face unfavorably, and had chosen to sit at a safe corner quietly sipping a drink. Ken was gone, talking animatedly to a lot of people, all of them dressed in their best and congregated in small groups. They were - Tom had to give it to Ken - extremely hot, and in the back of his mind he realized they were all probably models. 

Tom's eyes flittered from face to face, making sure not to stare for too long and be noticed. His glass' contents vanished fairly quickly though, and he found himself being obligated to stand and ask for another at the dim-lighted bar at the center of the room. While the bartender prepared his drink, Tom rested against the small leathered stool, pressing his lips together and letting his gaze wander aimlessly. 

"A vodka martini, please." A smooth, deep voice said somewhere from Tom's left, and he looked to the side, glad for being able to hold back his gasp. 

At a small distance, a man appearing to be in his thirties was sat, blond hair swept in a ponytail that rested at the back of his neck. His shoulders were broad, the black suit fitting him perfectly while his eyes swam from the bartender to a group of men standing outside in the veranda, motioning quickly for them to wait. His face reminded Tom of a feline, probably because of the short beard that covered his face and the deep set of his electric eyes. 

Tom swallowed, patiently waiting for his drink as with the corner of his eye, he caught one of the men from the group approaching. "Hey, Chris, what did you ask?" The man asked, loudly and cheerfully, patting the shoulder of the guy Tom had been admiring before. 

"A vodka martini, what are you having?" The man - Chris, Tom heard - replied. 

"I don't know..." Chris' friend scratched his head, eyes darting around the room as he tried to find someone. Tom quickly lowered his gaze. "Did you see that short brunette from earlier?" He asked Chris, who laughed deliciously. 

"No, man." 

Chris' friend clicked his tongue. "Fine, I'll take a look around." He said, walking away to survey the room. 

Chris smiled, watching his friend go, and as he walked right past Tom, the curly blonde looked away, finally getting his drink from the bartender. But Tom's eyes kept flickering to Chris like a magnet, mesmerized with the way he kept drumming his fingers atop the bar stand, the way he bit just the corner of his lip. Tom was feeling himself warming, cursing under his breath whenever people moved and disturbed his view of Chris. He needed to capture such perfection, perhaps show his friends later just what sights he had been treated on during the weekend. 

Decided, Tom sneaked his hand beneath the lapel of his suit, fishing his cell phone from his inner pocket. Pretending to check something on it, Tom supported the device on the bar stand, feeling his blood quicken as he pressed the camera app and focused it on Chris. He snatched three pictures quickly, afraid the first had come out too shadowy and the second too distant, and as Chris was handed his drink and walked away, the saved image on Tom's cell phone distracted him for a while. 

Someone bumped into his shoulder from behind, saying a low 'sorry' before walking towards the veranda. Tom blinked, mouth parting slightly as he recognized Chris' friend from earlier, marching ahead with determined steps, sending Tom a quick, reproachful look from over his shoulder in the process. 

Shit. 

Tom paled. He had seen him. Heart racing, he swallowed dryly, being unable to take his eyes away from the man, who clapped a hand over Chris' shoulder to get his attention, whispering something that made Chris' smile slip off his face. And then he pointed a thumb over his shoulder, directly at Tom. They both turned, eyes falling on him. 

Wide eyed, Tom gasped, fleeing from the scene and letting his drink behind. His eyes searched frantically for Ken. He had to leave this room before embarrassing himself completely. Tom didn't know Chris, perhaps he'd make a scandal and of course Tom was in the wrong, he couldn't take pictures of random people. 

Ken was talking to a man near the entrance, head thrown back as he laughed heartily. Tom hastily made his way to him, bumping into a woman that looked affronted. Excusing himself, Tom called "Ken," but his friend didn't hear him. Desperate, Tom was about to extend his arm and poke Ken's shoulder when he felt a warm, big hand cupping his elbow. 

"Hi," the same smooth, deep voice said. Chris. 

Tom turned around slowly, frightened eyes falling on Chris, standing right beside him. He smelled good, and Tom thought perhaps Chris was the one he had seen on his television on that Polo perfume advertisement a month ago. "Hi," he replied, nervously licking his lips. 

If Chris was mad at him, he didn't look it, smiling pleasantly as he continued to stare at Tom's face. "So," he said, before Tom could blurt the shameful apology he had been planning to. "I've never seen you around before." He motioned with the his hand holding his drink at the general area of the room. 

"Ah," Tom breathed pitifully. "No, I- I'm here with someone." 

Chris' hand feel from his elbow, murmuring a low "Oh." 

"With a friend," Tom was quick to add. Chris' chest moved as he let out a faint sigh in relief, and Tom blushed. 

"What's your name?" Chris asked, slowly leading them towards the small sofa at the corner Tom had been seated on earlier. 

"Tom." 

Chris hummed, taking a seat beside Tom, the leather rustling beneath them. "I like it. Delicate. Pretty. It suits you." He said, tipping his head back to finish his drink. 

Tom gaped while Chris was too busy putting his empty glass on the coffee table in front of them. God, was he flirting? "I'm Chris," Chris extended a hand between them, which Tom promptly shook. "Hi, Chris." 

Chris laughed, "Hi, Tom," and stretched an arm at the back of the sofa, behind Tom's shoulders. Tom flushed furiously, not believing this was really happening. "So, Tom," Chris continued. "A little bird told me you were sneaking pictures of me." 

Tom froze, hands on his knees. "Uh- Hm, maybe." 

Chris' eyebrows rose. "Really? Tell you what, Tom. I have a room booked in this hotel," Tom bit his lower lip, ducking his head shyly as Chris leaned to whisper in his ear. "And if you'd like to, I could show you the live thing instead of seeing it in a photograph." 

Tom smiled, nodding quickly. Chris laughed, taking his hand and leading them away. 

 

-


	6. Sea, Salt and Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for [drlaingwillseeyounow's ](http://drlaingwillseeyounow.tumblr.com/)prompt on Tumblr:
> 
> [this picture ](foxtel.tumblr.com/post/128214717147/throwback-thorsday-chris-hemsworth)has me thinking about chris and tom as beach lifeguards. high school/college age, young summer love :)
> 
> Featuring: beachlifeguard!chris and drowningvictim!tom. **Warning:** vivid description of drowning.

-

 

"I can't swim!" Tom insisted. Emma rolled her eyes, taking his wrist to lead him to the waves that broke against the shore. 

"You won't have to swim, just dip your toes in or something." 

Tom pouted, letting himself be taken though something gnawed at his chest and told him not go, that it'd end up badly. 

They were staying at their summer house just a few blocks away from the beach. Their parents were visiting some friends around the neighborhood, leaving Tom and his sisters 'to go and have fun'. In the full bloom of summer, the beach was fairly crowded and Tom prefered to lie on his towel to tan, splashing sunscreen all over his body while Sarah read a book beside him under the sunshade that flickered with the wind. Emma, for her part, prefered to stay in the water, dodging the waves and looking more fish than a human. Tom had resisted all of her earlier talk, but Emma had now finally managed to drag him out of his towel. 

Tom flinched when his feet met the wet sand, scurrying back when a wave broke and the water spread to touch his feet. "It's freezing!" 

"You just need to get used to it." Emma defended, taking his elbow to draw him farther into the breaking waves. 

Tom's toes and feet were numb with the water's temperature, but he had to admit that it vanished in a while. He risked a few more steps into the water that now reached his ankles, staring at the mounds that formed at a distance, gaining strength and breaking in a hiss of white foam. 

Tom had always been scared of the sea; it intimated him, the waves and how the currents could pull him to the open sea no matter his resistance. He could already hear the Jaw's soundtrack playing in the back of his mind. 

"Come on, Tom," Emma screeched, splashing water in his face. 

"I'm okay here," he said, flinching away from her and crossing his arms over his pale chest. 

Tom couldn't get into a pool or at the beach without those awful arm buoys, a terrible fortune to any seventeen year old boy. There were five year olds jumping around the waves, even elders parting the water with their arms and diving, and Tom swallowed in regret for not taking those swimming classes when younger; that's why he didn't make much of an effort to stop his sister. "Toooom," Emma insisted, pulling his arm. "Let's go, you're tall, you're not going to drown." 

Sighing, Tom carefully followed Emma's determined steps, the water now reaching his waist. A wave approached, but instead of breaking in his face and filling his lungs like it happened on every one of his nightmares, it just lifted him, Tom shrieking in panic when his feet lost contact with the wet soil underneath. Emma stayed him by his arm, the water reaching his neck before it let him go again, passing in a roll and leaving him the way he had been before. 

"What was that?" He asked, smile splitting his face. 

"I told you it was good." Emma said, laughing. 

On the second, Emma told him to kick his legs to gain impulse. "What for?" 

"It's fun!" 

He did as she told him but didn't manage to move from his spot. "I can't do it," he said, disappointed with himself as he watched Emma merrily swimming in the wave. 

Tom couldn't say when he had ventured further into the water, in his mind he hadn't. He figured the water had slowly pulled him and he hadn't even noticed it until one of the waves went past and his feet didn't touch the ground anymore. Panicking, Tom's heart raced. "Emma!" He yelled, before being engulfed by the water. He batted his arms frantically, eyes closing against the salty sting of the sea water. He wanted to scream, but knew if he did so the water would fill his lungs and his chances of surviving would be reduced to almost nothing. 

'I'm going to die, I'm going to die' was all he could think, whining in the back of his throat. Tom wanted to cry, a deep, agonizing sorrow constricting his chest. Another wave hit him, pulling his body closer to shore only to drag it back. He kicked and struggled to reach the surface, batting his warms widely for any semblance of sustenance. 

Tom could feel his muscles were about one second away from cramping, his energy stock sapped, his body being slowly filled with exhaustion, cold desperation running in his veins as his hope began to wane and he realized he was not going to make it. He tried to scream for Emma again, the cold and salty water filling his mouth with no mercy. 

Tom gagged, tried spitting the water as a searing pain enveloped his nose and stung his skull between his eyes. He had breathed water in, and tried coughing to no avail. So this was how death felt like. 

He felt the water drumming around his ears, vibrating with movement as if something was about to come and swoop him, to end his agony and bury his body in water. It got closer, and Tom's mind played the Jaw's soundtrack in full force now. It was a shark, he was sure of it, and accepted his destiny with more ease than he would've felt himself capable of. 

Strong arms enveloped his ribcage and Tom's face slid over a slick and wet chest, neck lolling to the side as a hand stayed his head in place. His unconscious body broke the waves as his carrier swam them away from the cruel sea, an arm reaching for his hip and aligning Tom's legs around a firm waist for support. 

An impact hiked Tom's body up as his carrier reached shore, strong legs gaining sustenance on the ground. The beach lifeguard laid his body on the sand, a commotion gathering around Tom's unconscious form, the sunlight hitting his pale skin. Strong hands applied rhythmed pressure on his chest, Tom's body heaving with it. Wet lips breathed air into his mouth, once, twice. Parting to inhale again before ducking to inject more oxygen. 

Tom's eyelids fluttered and the crowd gasped, the lifeguard wildly motioning with his arms to gain more space. "Back off, back off!" Tom heard the man shout, barely assimilating the words in his head as he regained sense on his limbs. His stomach groaned, the back of his eyes stung and weighed, and the big hand of Tom's savior got a hold of his shoulder and sat him up. 

Tom's head rolled to the side, retching the salty water all over the sand as his savior appeased him, the crowd scurrying back immediately. He heard voices that he thought belonged to Sarah and Emma but it felt like an eternity since he had last seen them. 

"Easy, easy..." The lifeguard told him serenely, a hand patting his back for comfort. 

Tom blinked his eyes open, resting his head against the man's shoulder. "All right?" The lifeguard asked, cupping his head and seeing his face to check if he was completely conscious and well. 

Nodding tiredly, Tom's face crumpled though no tears came. It was shameful, his almost death experience for something so silly, dragging a complete stranger into this and vomiting all over him under the crowd's avid eyes. 

"Tom! Tom!" Emma was shaking, her face laden with tears. She fell on her knees beside him and hugged his neck, her sobs heaving her chest. Sarah was in the same state, running her fingers through Tom's hair, his curls wet and full of sand. 

"All right, all right!" The beach lifeguard said, standing and blowing his whistle to disperse the crowd. "Nothing to see here!" 

Tom got a peek of his bright red swimming trunks and buried his face in Emma's hair. He couldn't believe that had truly happened to him. 

The crowd mumbled and walked away, and Tom's savior tried to appease Emma and disentangle her limbs from Tom. "It's all good, he's fine." He said, Emma sniffling and sitting back on her heels. "Hey," the man continued, touching Tom's chin gently, "Do you think you'll need medical assistance?" 

Tom shook his head. 

"All right, let's get you out of here. Are you girls his family?" 

Emma and Sarah must have said yes, and got on their feet. "Can you stand?" The lifeguard asked, bending at the waist to look into Tom's face. Only now Tom realized how beautiful he was, though his eyes were the color of the treacherous sea that had almost swallowed him today. 

Tom made a feeble movement to stand but lost his balance, and the beach lifeguard was there to stay him. Tom's legs were shaking and he let out a dry sob, his mouth bitter. "It's okay, it's okay," the man repeated. "Tom, isn't it?" 

Tom nodded, and in a quick move, the lifeguard pulled him from the sand, one arm around his back and the other behind his knees in a bridal style. Tom was too weak to argue or blush, letting his head rest on his shoulder and his arms tangle around his neck as the man made small talk and walked him farther into the sand, Emma and Sarah bracketing his sides. 

"My name is Chris, Tom," he said, and Tom looked up slowly to find Chris staring firmly ahead. "You're safe now." And then turning to his sisters: "Did you come here by foot?" 

"Yes," Sarah said, voice brittle, Emma still crying too much to speak. "We're staying at our house here this summer, it's two blocks from here. Are you sure-?" 

"I can take him. Just show me the way." 

 

~*~ 

 

Chris laid Tom down on the sofa carefully, looking like a giant marble statue now that Tom could get a good look. He was visibly tired because though thin, Tom was no easy weight to carry for two blocks. Chris scratched the back of his neck but accepted Sarah's glass of water. Emma kneeled by Tom's side, playing with his curls with a sad expression. 

"I'm so sorry, Tom. I shouldn't have made you-" She sobbed again. 

Chris gave Sarah some health advices while Tom listened from the sofa. From what he gathered, he just needed to rest now and drink some water - potable water -, just keeping an eye out for a fever should it appear. 

"Bye, Tom." Chris said, looking down at him. 

Tom smiled, swallowing dryly through his throat that felt raw and parched. "Thank you." He managed to say, twin spots of color atop his cheek. 

Chris patted his knee, "It's my job." He said, simply, and told them he couldn't leave the beach unsupervised and had to go back. 

Sarah and Emma were all over Tom as Chris left through the front door, and he could only say that yes, he was okay and yes, he had forgiven them. He waited some more until his legs were stable and he could take a shower, drinking a whole bottle of water and lying on his bed to sleep, Emma and Sarah helping him all along the process. 

"Can I sleep here with you, Tom?" Emma asked, eyes red rimmed. 

Tom smiled, "Sure." 

 

~*~ 

 

Tom wished to thank Chris properly. It took him two days to feel better from the trauma and the majority of the time he spent thinking of Chris and replaying everything in his mind, even the bad parts. He remembered the feeling of drowning, the salty water grating his throat. But for every bad memory there was the memory of Chris' comforting words, the warmth of his limbs and the way he had carried Tom all the way back to his house. Chris, from his looks, had approximately Tom's own age and the thought of him made Tom smile, his insides tingling. His sisters seemed to be as much starstruck with him as Tom was, saying they had never seen beach lifeguards being that kind to anyone. 

Tom's parents were still hesitant to let him out of the house, too sensitive to lose him from sight. 

"I'm just going to the beach," Tom murmured, his mother's face blanching. 

"The beach, Tom? Are you crazy? We almost lost you, you're not setting foot on that beach ever again." 

"Mom," Tom moaned. "I need to thank the beach lifeguard." 

His mother seemed to be moved by that, pausing on her rant and looking at him unsurely. "You're not getting in the water?" 

"No, mom, of course not!" The last thing Tom wanted to think about was the water. "He saved my life and brought me home, I haven't thanked him properly." 

She let him go. "If you so much as step into the water, Tom, I'm warning you, I'll know it." 

"I'll go with you!" Emma shouted. Tom wasn't dismayed for having her company, but he'd prefer to go alone, which he obviously didn't tell her. Emma was now completely devoted to him, feeling guilty beyond compare. 

They walked to the beach in silence, Tom with his hands shoved in his pockets. He wished he had brought something to gift Chris with but wasn't sure what he'd like. 

The sight of the sea made his insides churn and Emma grabbed his wrist firmly, but Tom knew there was no actual danger if he didn't step in. Finding the beach guard's post, they directed their steps towards it. 

Chris and another lifeguard were inside arranging life buoys, and they looked up when Emma and Tom knocked on the white painted wood. "Hello?" Tom poked his head inside, which couldn't be helped since the door was open. 

The other lifeguard stepped up to them but Chris told him something that had him smiling and remaining inside. Licking his lips, Tom backtracked to the sand, Emma beside him. "Hey, Tom," Chris said, supporting his arms on the doorframe. "How are you doing? Getting better?" 

Tom nodded shyly while Chris greeted Emma. "Yes, it's a bit... traumatic." He shrugged, looking down at the sand. "But I'm good." 

"That's great. Didn't come here to try your luck as a swimmer again, right?" Chris laughed, Tom trying to unstick his eyes from his chest. 

"No," he mumbled. "Actually, I came here to thank you." 

Emma nodded. "Thanks for saving my brother's life, Chris." 

The sun was almost setting, and the light orange rays illuminated Chris' features, his bronzed skin and the stark blue of his eyes. Chris smiled, turning his eyes to Tom. "Anytime." 

Tom blushed, grinning slightly and looking at his feet. His heart felt warm and he found himself wondering... He wished there was something else he could say, but Emma looked fairly pleased and in no time they were already saying their goodbyes. 

 

~*~ 

 

There wasn't much to do at the summer house if he couldn't go to the beach, an argument Tom used frequently now to move his parents' decision of keeping him indoors. Luckily, the reminder that Chris was always there served to change their minds, safe in the thought that under his savior's watch, Tom would be free of any danger. 

"Can I go with you?" Emma asked, after excitedly putting on her swimwear. 

Tom shrugged. The only thing Tom planned on doing was loitering around until he could catch a glimpse of Chris, so he accepted on taking Emma and taking a spot on the sand, he watched as she swam in the waves. 

"Taking care of your young sister?" 

Tom whipped his head around, although he had already recognized the voice. He smiled, shrugging. 

Chris stood beside him in his red trunks, watching the waves with an expert gaze. "The sea is calm today," he said, and sat beside Tom. 

"Wasn't it calm the day I-?" Tom gulped, switching his gaze back to Emma. 

Chris made a thoughtful face. "Yes, it was. But it was an accident, Tom." 

"And you saved me." Tom murmured, blushing. 

Chris shrugged as if it had been nothing. "Luckily, I did, yeah." 

"Were there other people who-" Tom paused, remembering how he had thought he would die. The sound of the waves breaking reached them. "Who weren't so lucky?" 

Chris nodded and Tom grimaced, looking down at the sand and grabbing a fistful of it in his hand for lack of something better to do. "I know I thanked you before," Tom said, "But thank you." 

Chris turned to him and smiled, patting his back. Tom flushed, and wondered if Chris only ever thought of him as they boy he had saved, wondered if he had nothing but friendly commiseration for him. "How old are you?" He asked before he could stop himself. "I mean, I-" 

But Chris chuckled. "Nineteen." 

Tom nodded. "Wow." He watched Emma for a while and then returned to Chris. "I am seventeen myself. My parents are pressuring me to get into a nice college and everything," he rolled his eyes. "It's kind of-" 

"Stifling." Chris supplied, and Tom grinned slowly. 

"Yes, yes, exactly." 

"Been through that too." Chris shrugged. "But don't let it get to you, Tom. In the end you'll always go for what you love." 

"Do you love being a beach lifeguard?" 

Chris smiled. "I love the sea. I love surfing..." 

Tom's eyes widened, imagining Chris surfing. "You surf?" 

"I do. And it's nice." Chris paused, looking back at the beach's safe post. "It's not perfect but it's very honorable. And I get to save pretty boys like you." He said the last part while shooting Tom a wry grin, and Tom's heart jumped, laughing shyly and looking down at his own feet, tugging a blond curl away from his forehead. 

Chris laid a hand on his thigh and Tom shuddered. "I have to go now but stop by whenever, Tom. Perhaps we could grab some ice cream next time." He winked, and stood on his heels to run back to his post. 

Tom sat there, watching his back and gasping in pleasant surprise. 

 

~*~ 

 

"Are you dating that beach lifeguard?" 

Tom startled, spinning on his heels to face Sarah at his doorframe, head tilted to the side as she analyzed Tom. She had probably seen the intense care with which he had adjusted his hair and clothes, and it was a little embarrassing. "God, you scared the hell out of me, Sarah." He turned to put on his shoes, ignoring her question. 

"Well, are you?" 

Tom licked his lips, avoiding her gaze. 

"I have nothing against it, really. It's cute, if anything. But you have to be careful, Tom, mom and dad said we're leaving in two weeks." 

Tom didn't need the reminder of that, and sighed before answering "I'm not dating Chris." 

Sarah raised an eyebrow, unconquered. "Not yet." Tom huffed, and his sister smirked. "Where are you off then?" 

"I'm not sure. He said-" he paused, thinking if he should tell Sarah. "He said we could 'grab an ice cream next time'. But I don't know if he's even going to be there or if it's okay to just show up and demand his time. It seems-" A sigh, "Well, it doesn't seem concrete." 

Sarah shrugged. "Well, give it a try. I think he wouldn't say something like that out of the blue." 

 

~*~ 

 

"Hey, Tom! I thought you wouldn't be coming." Chris shouted from his place at the sand, his blond hair flicking with the afternoon breeze. 

"Sorry. I didn't know when to show up." Tom said, walking up to Chris. His shoes crunched the sand and he felt really dumb for coming in clothes not fit for staying at the beach. He had no idea what Chris had in mind. 

"No sister today?" Chris asked, looking beside Tom's shoulders as if Emma was hiding somewhere behind him. 

Tom flushed. "No, I- I thought we..." 

"Ah, I see. You came for your victory ice cream, isn't it? Well, hold on a minute, I'll ask Nick to keep an eye out while I'm away, sure?" Chris indicated a man above his shoulder, another lifeguard. Tom could only nod numbly as Chris ran to tap the man on the shoulder, saying something before entering the white safety post. 

There were cawing seagulls at a distance and Tom watched their flight while waiting. Chris was so nonchalant about it. Perhaps he had overseen things. Perhaps it wasn't even a date, just some sort of friendly gesture. But he had called Tom a pretty boy, he wouldn't have said it if he didn't have an interest in him, right? 

Tom felt Chris' hand on his shoulder, turning to see he now wore a shirt and sandals. "Hey, let's go." Tom froze as he led him with a hand on the small of his back, steering Tom to the right of the sidewalk, where small kiosks stood selling their touristic stuff. They finally arrived at the ice cream parlor, Tom eating his vanilla cone with a small plastic spoon. Chris got a mixture of chocolate and strawberry and mint, adding all sort of sugary things on top. 

"You wouldn't believe how hungry I am sometimes. Swimming and running on the sand all day seeps all of my energy." Chris said, leading them to the small tables arranged outside, where the blue sea was visible. Tom laughed, trying his hardest to get the image of a semi naked, wet and sun kissed Chris running on the sand towards him. 

"Tom, can I ask you something?" Chris blurted, and Tom stopped with his spoon midway into splitting his ice cream. He licked his lips, heat rising to his face, which luckily he could blame on the heat and the sun. 

"Sure." 

Chris stared at him with a very serious face before tilting his head towards Tom's ice cream. "Why did you choose vanilla? It's a very bland flavor, in my opinion. Here, do you want some chocolate?" He offered to give him a part of his ice cream but Tom declined shyly. He hadn't been expecting that, and once more the hope he had that Chris was about to ask him something serious and date-related was crushed. 

~*~

"That was lovely, Tom." Chris said, walking beside him on the sidewalk after they had finished. Tom's lips were sticky with sugar, and more than once he had caught Chris looking as he licked his lips after the taste. 

"It was. Thank you, Chris." 

Chris laughed, the hand on the small of Tom's back twisting around his waist and tugging him as Chris stepped to the side, pressing his own back against the small wall that fringed the sidewalk and pulling Tom to stand between his legs. Tom gasped, supporting himself with both his hands on Chris' chest, looking up at his face which was suddenly close. 

Chris looked amused, his perpetual grin in place. "Will you always, always thank me all the time?" 

Tom laughed in spite of himself. "Yes, I think so." The sea breeze flicked both their hairs, the orange sunlight and the salt that chapped Tom's lips giving him chills, remembering the scenarios in romantic movies where summer flings were always approached as quick affairs destined to a fast ending. In a way, they were right. "I can't help it though." Tom continued, swallowing and staring into Chris' eyes, the lifeguard's smile fading a little as Tom's voice reached a more serious tone. "I'm very grateful to you. You saved my life, Chris. And you're a really nice person too, anyone else wouldn't have bothered to be so friendly to me and taking me out for ice cream. They would have probably scolded me for going into the water when I'm not able to swim." Tom sighed, chuckling humorlessly in the last part. 

"Not being able to swim doesn't make you less of a person, Tom. I bet there are plenty of things you're able to do that I wouldn't even dream about." Tom smiled shyly at that, but Chris didn't let him duck his head, swiping a thumb under his chin to tip his head up. "And there's nothing I'm prouder of than saving you. I wouldn't have met you otherwise, and look how terrible that would be." 

Tom smiled, tender under Chris' affectionate words. 

"And you thanking me all the time is endearing. Everything about you is endearing. But it reminds me too much of the day I saved you, feels like everything we're bound to be is victim and rescuer without ever being anything more." Chris paused, leaning down to touch the tip of his nose against Tom's. "And I don't want that." 

Chris' lips stole Tom's smile, their first kiss short and sweet, the touch of lips and the slight pressure Tom applied gingerly. "Okay?" Chris mumbled, wrapping Tom in his arms. Tom nodded feebly, clutching Chris' collar when Chris' hand swept past his neck to tug his lips to the side, leaning for another kiss, two more pecks before Chris' tongue entered the play, Tom smiling and meeting him halfway. 

They spent the rest of the afternoon like that, only scurrying to sit on a bench beneath a palm tree that offered them shade from the sun's glare. Tom sat on Chris' knee, keeping his balance with both hands wrapped around his neck as they talked and laughed and kissed some more. Chris smelled good, and Tom found he liked burying his nose behind Chris' neck while Chris was busy laying bruises on his. 

"I'm going away in two weeks," Tom said. He didn't want to fool themselves into believing this was not what it was, and although he wanted nothing more than to stay forever he knew things were not like this. Chris didn't look surprised, and lay a gentle kiss on the curve of his neck. "Chris, I'm going back to London in two weeks." 

"Yeah," Chris mumbled. "Are you worried?" 

Tom shrugged, biting the inside of his bottom lip. "You'll come back next summer, won't you?" Chris asked, nosing into the space between Tom's ear and hair. It tickled, and Tom let out a short breath. 

"Yes. Yes, I always do." 

"We'll see how it goes then." 

"But-" Tom stopped, lingering on the words unsurely before continuing, "You wouldn't wait a year for me, would you?" 

Chris stared at him amusedly. "If you manage to spend one year without drowning..." He teased, pinching Tom's cheek. "I would, why not?" He seemed so carefree that Tom could only laugh and kiss him again.

 

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the uncalled for drama...


	7. Two Seasons of Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for [mjolnir-s-master's](http://mjolnir-s-master.tumblr.com/) prompt on Tumblr:
> 
> Amnesiac Chris is intensely interested in the curly haired man named Tom who visits him every afternoon (and also happens to be his husband) Cue the angst! and a potential happy ending...
> 
> I know you asked for angst but perhaps I exaggerated '.' I really hope you like it!! :D
> 
> Warnings: just angst.

\- 

 

Today's morning met a sky looming with dark clouds, a shallow but cold breeze rustling the leaves of trees and almost swiping the small lunch box Tom carried in his hand. Sighing, the curly blond man hastened his steps, pushing the heavy glass door of the clinic open. Inside was warmer, the familiar sight of the white waiting room with its empty seats and magazine rackets. Tom ruffled his curls as he made his way to the small balcony ahead, where Abby, the nurse, smiled up at him and continued writing something in a paper. 

"Good morning, Abby." Tom greeted, supporting his lunch box and the accompanying coffee cup atop the balcony. 

"Good morning, Mr Hiddleston," the nurse replied kindly. 

Tom nodded, licking his lips. "How is he doing today?" 

Abby's smile neither widened nor faded, which Tom now knew meant no progress. "He's doing fine." 

"Great," Tom murmured, gaze flying to the hallways that stretched farther into the building. "Has he had breakfast already? I brought him something I think he might like." Tom raised the takeout to make his point. 

Abby shook her head softly. "Not yet, Mr Hiddleston, but it's about time." She said, glancing at the clock on her computer. 

"I shall hurry then. Thank you, Abby." Tom was quick to say, smiling gratefully and picking his belongings, making the familiar way down the first hallway. 

Tom liked this clinic. It wasn't cheap, he would admit, but the great care with which the staff treated the patients had been a decisive factor for his preference of it. The psychiatric at the hospital had also spoken highly of it and the visiting hours fit Tom's schedule, not to say the daily medical attention had him safer in the knowledge that Chris' progress would be accompanied and with any luck, hastened. 

Tom took a deep breath when approaching the door to room 31, peering into the small window and seeing Chris seated on his bed, peacefully staring out the window showcasing the gardens outside. Tom knocked, because on the first day, when he had opened the door without preamble, Chris had been so terrifyingly scared that Tom promised himself he would never do it again. 

Chris' gaze fell on him and Tom smiled, waving through the small window before turning the doorknob. 

"Good morning, Chris." Tom greeted, cheerfully as always. Chris smiled, making Tom's heart soar with hope. "How are you doing this morning?" Tom continued, smiling and putting the breakfast takeout atop Chris' bedside table. 

"Good." Chris answered, eyes avidly following each and every one of Tom's movements. 

"I brought you something for breakfast, see?" Tom said, lifting the small styrofoam box for Chris to see. 

"Thank you." Chris smiled hesitantly. 

Tom nodded, watching him for a moment before sighing and putting on his best smile again. "I think we'll have rain today," he moved to the window, pulling the curtains aside with a finger to peer into the still dark sky above them. "There's a terrible wind outside, my hair is all tangled up in knots," Tom laughed, carding a hand through his curls and catching his reflection in the window's glass. His hair was in a disarray but it didn't look as bad as he had expected it to. Tom caught Chris looking too, through the glass' reflection, and was quick to clear his throat and move to the bedside table again. Chris sometimes stared at him with a dreamy expression and Tom couldn't help feeling happy but uncomfortable; he knew Chris didn't recognize him, not anymore. 

"So, do you think you'd like to try it?" Tom asked, opening the lid to show Chris the breakfast Tom had procured for him in the bakery: carrot muffins and warm, doughy cinnamon rolls, along with black, pure coffee. They used to be Chris' favorite. 

Chris stared at it as though he had never seen it before and Tom let his gaze fall to the floor. Chris wouldn't remember. 

Chris assented wordlessly, and Tom gave him the box. "There's coffee too." He said, pulling the coffee cup closer to Chris, trying not to look too expectant as he folded his hands in his lap and pulled his usual chair close to the bed. 

Tom watched as Chris took a hold of the cinnamon roll, and licking his lips nervously, continued talking. "I hope you'll like it. I bought at the Dough Station, the bakery next to ou- my house." 

In the beginning, standing in the same room in complete silence while supporting Chris' questioning gaze had proved too much for Tom, and now he was careful to fill in every second with words. Chris' psychiatric, Dr Morgan, had once told Tom that talking to him would help his recovery, mostly if Tom dropped small hints of their previous life, things that could stir Chris' memory: a favorite song, pictures, his favorite bakery... But until now, nothing seemed to have worked. 

Tom watched as Chris bit into the cinnamon roll, chewing tentatively and saying around a mouthful, "It's good." Tom smiled faintly, noticing how the statement lacked a truthful enthusiasm. But Chris kept chewing and as he did, he glanced at the cinnamon roll again, taking another bite and frowning. "This is really good." Chris hummed in appreciation, and Tom couldn't hold back a smile. 

"I'm glad you liked it." 

Chris paused to take a sip of the coffee, nodding to himself and taking another bite of the cinnamon roll. He had truly liked it, and Tom sighed in relief. It'd work, he was sure of it. Tom knew that some people had been losing faith, but he'd never let Chris go. 

 

~*~ 

 

Chris took a walk around the clinic after lunch. Tom had left a little after breakfast, which Chris had eaten heartily, the flavor and crunchiness unlike anything he had had before. It tasted a little familiar, but like with most things that stirred that feeling in Chris, he couldn't track it back to when or where exactly he had experimented it before in the past. 

Although the staff consisted of mostly good and friendly people, the clinic was tiring. Chris woke up everyday to execute the perfectly thought over routine of eating, going to the bathroom, taking a walk, practicing in the indoors gym and talking to someone if he was feeling adventurous. At four o'clock, Dr Morgan would stop by at his room to talk to him. He was a nice guy but after he left, Chris would be almost always left with a headache. 

In the beginning, during his first week at the clinic, it was usual for some people to come and visit him: an elderly couple, two men and even children. Their similarities were striking, and Chris knew they were his family. But he had no memory of them, and explaining it was always sad, the woman he supposed was his mother usually weeped, and Chris would feel a pang in his chest, as though he wanted to say something, do something but couldn't make himself. After some time, they stopped coming altogether, and the only one who stopped by every day was the curly haired man. 

Chris loved his smile. He was always cheerful, bright. Sometimes his eyes changed colors, and he would give Chris a quick, crestfallen look before smiling and continuing, telling him about his day and how his bed felt too big for him to sleep on all alone. Chris would glimpse at the man's wedding ring and frown. 

Chris had no reminiscing of him though, and he remembered how he once saw the man wiping his eyes outside the door after talking to Chris for the first time. Chris wanted to understand him, to remember him, and he felt the man wanted the same, looking forlorn, almost betrayed when he would arrive to find out Chris still didn't know his name. 

 

~*~ 

 

"Amnesia." The doctor at the hospital had said, and Tom had clutched Chris' mother hand in his. 

"Is it untreatable?" He had asked, though he had watched enough movies to have a common sense knowledge of what amnesia entailed. Still, he needed to hear from the doctor's mouth that his Chris would be all right. 

"It depends," the doctor had said, and Tom clasped his eyes shut. "Some remember slowly, after years even; others remember in the next day." He had paused, mouth turning downwards. "And of course, there are those who don't remember at all." 

 

~*~ 

 

Chris always had the same nightmare, cloudy and cut by numerous black flashes: there was rain, and he sat behind a steering wheel. Something buzzed in his ears, statics that dissolved into a rich and melodic laughter. The windshield was dotted with tiny drops of rain, and ahead of him, a green light flashed. Every night he discovered something new. Today, he found his gaze being momentarily focused on the radio above the console, where the melodic voice drifted from. Chris reached to press a button in it, but before he could a shadow moved from his left, coming from behind a shapeless mass of grey buildings. Chris' heart leapt, knowing he would crash, and the same faint, lilting voice saying 'I love you'. 

Chest heaving, Chris woke up in pants, a soft palm resting on his forehead. He opened his eyes to see the curly blond man there, eyes round, retrieving his hand from Chris' brow hastefully. "I'm sorry..." He mumbled, but kept his gaze locked on Chris. 

Chris nodded, lying back down on the mattress, breathing slowly returning to normal. The curly blond took his usual seat beside Chris' bed, watching him worriedly but visibly not knowing how to behave, wanting to reach out but being prevented by himself. 

"I- I saw you sleeping but I thought I could watch you, and, wait for you to wake up." The curly blond explained himself. 

"Thank you." Chris said, glimpsing at the bedside table and seeing he had brought more breakfast today. 

The curly blond nodded, eyes flitting over Chris' face. "Are you okay? You were sweating..." 

"Yes, just," Chris chuckled. "A nightmare." 

"Oh," the curly blond mumbled, staring at his own lap. 

"Hm, did I-" Chris paused, watching as the man swiftly looked up at him. "Did I use to drive?" 

The man's face remained impassive for a moment, until a pinch appeared between his eyebrows. He took a breath and opened his mouth but clicked it shut and looked away. "Yes," he whispered. "You did and-" He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. You're okay now." He smiled, but before Chris could say something else, the man continued. "I brought you more breakfast. You seemed to like it such much last time." 

"I did." Chris said, thinking it over. "I really did." 

 

~*~ 

 

The next day, the curly blond didn't show up. Chris waited for him, impatience eating at him though he attempted to make light of it. After lunch though, he stood and went to take his usual walk around the clinic. Without meaning to, his feet led him to the front door, where a nurse had just left a chart atop the front table. She raised an eyebrow upon seeing him, smiling kindly and waiting for what he had to say. 

"Um, hi, do you know if- I mean, did you see a tall man with curly hair? Blond..." Chris said, curling his finger around his head to emphasize the man's hair. 

The nurse laughed shortly. "You mean Mr Hemsworth?" 

"Sorry?" Chris frowned. 

"Mr Hemsworth; your everyday visitor, right?" Chris nodded. "That's Mr Hemsworth. I didn't see him today, no. That's actually very unusual," her brow furrowed. 

Chris' heart fell. "Oh, and- he didn't call either?" 

The nurse smiled faintly, looking at Chris with sympathy. "I'm afraid not." 

 

~*~ 

 

It was startling how much Chris missed him, how his day crumbled without him. Chris felt overwhelmed, surrounded by blank walls that wouldn't release him and that night he dreamed again. His vision was clearer today, he saw the pronounced bellies of raindrops on his windshield, saw his own hands gripping the steering wheel, the clear path ahead where a traffic light shone green. A voice - the same that laughed and whispered before he woke up - was telling him something, Chris didn't know what, but now understood they were in the middle of a phone call. The man laughed and Chris felt himself stilling - he recognized it, that was the curly blond man's laughter. Chris looked down at the radio, reaching for it before the black shape moved from the left side of his vision. Chris' eyes widened in horror, watching as the car moved, fast, _too fast_ \- and then the voice again: I love you. And Chris crashed. 

 

~*~ 

 

A man dressed in a white cloak had lifted Chris' eyelid, aiming a white light over his eye. "What's your name?" He had asked disinterestedly, moving to the other eye with the speed born out of practice. 

Chris' mind came up blank. "I- I don't know..." He was astounded to find himself saying, his forehead stinging where a glass shard had broken into his skin. 

The doctor paused, stared at him until his eyes shone with understanding and he patted Chris' shoulder. "Your name is Christopher," he had said, and that was all Chris remembered. 

 

~*~ 

 

He - Mr Hemsworth, Chris remembered the nurse had said - didn't show up again the next day. Chris' heart ached, even more so now that he had more and more doubts about the man's meaning in his life. He remembered his laughter, soft and melodic, ringing in his ears, blanketing him in warmth and Chris needed desperately to know, to remember. 

The name sounded awfully familiar, making a corner of his brain itch everytime Chris repeated it to himself: Mr Hemsworth. Where had he heard that name? When had he listened to it or seen it, read it somewhere? 

Chris stood from his bed in a sudden decision, not bearing the silence of his own room anymore. 

He had meant to go to the gym to practice but on his way there he passed the common living room, where patients were in, playing chess, talking and watching TV, and that was when Chris came to a halt. A group of elderly women were sat around the television, watching avidly as a couple whispered to each other in the screen, coming closer and closer until finally kissing. But it wasn't the image that got Chris' attention, it was the music playing in the background, a slow melody that sounded way too familiar. 

Chris stood there at the doorframe, watching the scene unfold until the music dropped to an imperceptible volume. Chris went back to his room, playing the music again and again in his head so he wouldn't forget it. He sat on his bed, breathing heavily and reaching out for his own face. He was crying. 

Jumping to his feet again, Chris reached for his chart attached to the edge of his bed, the one Dr Morgan always took when arriving to see him and the one he always left before going. He flicked the pages in a hurry until coming to the first one. 

Name of the patient: Christopher Hemsworth. 

Hemsworth. That was his own name. Then when the nurse said Mr Hemsworth. 

Then the curly haired man... The wedding ring on his finger, his empty bed, the way he cried when Chris didn't recognize him, his visits everyday, their mutual last name, his voice laughing on the day of Chris' accident, his last 'I love you' before Chris crashed. It was Tom. 

Tom, his husband. 

Chris laughed. He remembered everything! How he had been driving back from work on that rainy Friday after spending the whole week away from Tom. Tom, who was waiting for him at their home, who had called to know if he was already arriving, who had laughed in happiness when knowing he was almost there and said he loved him before Chris crashed against that black car, the one that had crossed the red light, going above one hundred miles per hour. A robber, Chris remembered the policemen at the hospital saying, a robber running away from the police. They said Chris could consider himself a hero for stopping him if it hadn't cost so much of him too, and Chris remembered the sickening crack of his own head against the windshield that broke into a thousand glass shards and cut his skin, the awful and loud crash of metal and engines and Tom's yells through the still functioning phone call. 

Chris remembered how Tom had cried on his shoulder and hugged him when arriving at the hospital and knowing Chris would be all right, only stepping back when Chris stiffened and pushed him away. "Who are you?" he had asked, confused. "No, no, I never saw you before, I'm sorry." 

 

~*~ 

 

Chris sprang out of bed when Tom's face appeared on the door's small window, smiling and waving. Tom looked startled, out of breath, round eyes taking Chris in as he closed the door and walked forward. "Hi, I- I'm sorry, my mother was worried about me and convinced me to go and spend some days with her but," He smiled, "Dr Morgan called. He said you made... progress." Tom watched him, eyes flitting over Chris' face warily, smile slipping off slowly. "Is it true?" He asked in a murmur, giving one step forward before hesitating and clasping his hands together. 

Chris beamed, a wide and great grin. Tom blinked, mouth parting as he stared and waited until asking carefully: "Chris?" 

Chris reached to take one of Tom's hands in his. "Tom," he said, and Tom's face broke into a huge smile. "Chris!" he shouted, his other hand coming up to his mouth. "Oh my god, Chris!" Tom hugged him, his head of blond curls resting against Chris' chest as Chris laughed. "I knew you'd remember! I knew, I was sure of it!" 

"Are you crying?" Chris asked, running his thumb over Tom's cheekbone, kissing his hairline. 

"Yes," Tom laughed, a tear rolling down his cheek. "How- When?" He asked, fumbling to get a grasp of Chris' collar. 

"Come here," Chris said, walking backwards and pulling Tom to his lap on the bed. The laptop Chris had borrowed momentarily from nurse Abby lay beside them, and Chris pressed play on the music he had heard yesterday and that he had found in the internet. 

The music filled the room and Chris watched Tom's face, seeing as it went from confused to startled, then to happy and blissful. "Chris, that's-" 

"Our wedding song." Chris completed, grabbing his face and kissing him, missing the shape of his lips, his taste of love and loyalty. 

"I knew you'd remember." Tom said, laughing and ducking to hide his face in Chris' neck. 

"Of course, my love. How could I ever forget you?" Chris kissed him again. "In a way, I think I never did." 

 

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everybody liked it, I have plenty of insecurities with this one. The music I was talking about is [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hTMwZrpRKtU).


	8. Travel South then Keep Going

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for [lolalyn's](http://lolalyn.tumblr.com/) prompt on Tumblr - which I accidentaly lost x.x - but asked for tourist!tom and Cajun!Chris. For those like me who hadn't heard about Cajuns, [this Wikipedia page](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cajun) proved very informative. 
> 
> I don't know if it's heavily stereotypical, and my apologies if it is, I hope you like it!!
> 
> Featuring: wild animals and cityboy!tom (which means he's scared shitless of them). No warnings.

 

 

-

 

Tom's plane landed at 7:24 am, exactly. Rolling his trunk away from the baggage claim, Tom surveyed the room with sleep deprived eyes after the tourist agency he had bought his all-included trip to Louisiana from. He found a couple, a woman with short blond hair and khaki shorts who smiled with too much enthusiasm and a bald, rotund man who nodded once and asked him his name to check his clipboard  before giving him his welcomes. Tom smiled as best as he could , and stood next to them while waiting for the other passengers to make their way towards them. 

It wasn't as if he was in this trip against his will, on the contrary, he had excitedly waited for his vacations just so he could come here; but the airplane travel had been horrible, with a far from solicitous stewardess and a couple with three babies that wouldn't stop crying. Tom hadn't been able to sleep and now wanted nothing more than to arrive at the hotel and drop his face on a soft pillowcase, one that didn't reek of  nicotine preferably. 

After  the wait, Tom and all the tourists squeezed themselves into the agency's van - couple with three babies included, Tom was sad to see -, and the bald man hit the road, a straight line of asphalt that seemed endless. Tom let his clammy forehead rest against the window, staring out every once in a while until his eyelids dropped and he was awakened by a ten year old upon arriving at their destination. 

The hotel was a big building with long roofs and tall windows and Tom tried to act as kind as he could when checking in. The other tourists didn't look as tired as him, snapping pictures of everything as Tom tried to dodge them to reach the elevators. His room was clean and tidy, rather unextravagant, and Tom sighed in relief when lying on the bed, trunk and bags forgotten as he was able to drift off  to sleep.

He didn't know for how long he slept, only that he was awakened by the telephone ringing. Belly growling, Tom blearily got a hold of the ringing hotel phone. "Hello," he mumbled, wondering why the hell they were calling him.

"Hello, Mr Hiddleston!" It was the woman from the reception who had greeted him earlier. "Just calling to inform your group is leaving for some sightseeing, wouldn't you like to accompany them?"

"Uhm-" Tom looked around after his cell phone. 11 o'clock. "Sure, yeah. Tell them I'll be a minute."

~*~

"The French influence is  visible everywhere in the culture of south Louisiana." The guide told them, Tom moving along with the tourists that snapped pictures and listened. They were inside a museum, old illustrations of the ancient city depicted in frames hanging off the walls. Tom strayed to watch them, the guide's voice and the tourists' murmurs losing intensity until Tom was left alone in the hallway. 

There were flags and a booth where fire guns and bullets were encased behind a protective glass. A small plaque at the bottom explained its history and Tom learned all about the battles  against the British forces. The names of deceased soldiers were exposed at the end of the museum next to a statue, and it wasn't until Tom had read most of it and taken all the pictures he wanted that he stepped away and took a look around to find himself alone. There was no trace of the guide nor of the tourists and Tom felt his mouth drying. 

A bored looking watchman stood by the exit and Tom tapped his shoulder until getting his attention. "Hi, I was here with a group but-"

"Gone." The man responded, motioning with his thumb at the end of the street where surely, the van Tom and the tourists had arrived in was turning the corner and disappearing out of sight.

Tom could only stare dumbly at it. They had forgotten him. 

Cheeks flushed, Tom closed his fists and tried not to let his indignation show. He thanked the watchman and went down the steps, head turning to one side of the street to the other. Nothing looked familiar or tourist-pleasing and Tom walked until reaching an avenue he swore they had passed on their way here. 

His belly growled once more and Tom patted his back pocket, sensing his wallet there and keeping an eye out for any restaurant should it appear. 

Where he ended up going was  the 'Cajun Roux', a family-run diner that looked clean enough. Tom found a seat near the exit should he give up, eyes running over the menu. Most of the names were in French or visibly associated to it, but still Tom frowned and had a hard time trying to make sense out of it. 

" _Bienvenu_ , what can I get you?" A waiter suddenly appeared next to him.

Tom hummed, taking a quick look at the man. He wore a casual smile and the diner's apron, his accent something Tom couldn't quite place. He was handsome, with blond hair and blue eyes, shoulders thrown loosely and not looking at all embarrassed or unnerved when Tom was obviously staring. 

"Ahn, I don't know, this  _boudin _ ..?"

The waiter's eyebrows jumped, and before Tom could utter another sound, the man slumped on the seat across his. "You're not from here?" He asked, leaning forward on his elbows above the table, eyes running over Tom like he was particularly interesting, focusing on his face and then darting to the tip of his curls. 

"Uhn," Tom mumbled, running a hand over his hair self-consciously. "No, I'm not." He could feel his eyes widening and tried to make nothing out of such an odd, weird behavior from a waiter. 

"Wow," the waiter crooned, still inspecting Tom. "Where are you from?"

Tom bit his lip, wondering what he would have to do to get some food here. "London. England." 

"Oh," he said, leaning back on his seat. It looked like he had lost some of his interest and Tom pondered what could that mean. "Why are you here?" he finished by asking, and Tom tried not to be offended.

"I'm a tourist." He answered, if not a little bit coldly, and took the menu back on his hands. "So, the  _boudin _ -"

"I'll bring it." The waiter said, standing up in a flash.

"But, wait, I didn't ask for-" Tom sighed, watching him go and letting his forehead hit his palm tiredly. He didn't know how this day could come out any worse. 

~*~

Surprisingly, it got better. The  _boudin _ ended up being very good and the waiter continued bringing Tom typical dishes that he hadn't asked for. They were all delicious although terribly spicy and Tom couldn't stomach all of it, insisting that he had had enough. "The check, please." He asked, but the waiter frowned. "The check," Tom repeated, watching as his face unfurled and he shook his head. 

"No, on the house," he said.

Tom gasped, "But I had a lot, please-"

"No, you're a tourist. Go see the city." He tilted his head towards the window.

"I-" Tom swallowed, "I can't, my group forgot me and I don't know how to walk here by myself-"

The waiter's eyes lightened up, "I'll take you."

"Really?" Tom didn't know how to deny him politely. He had no idea who he was, and Tom wouldn't want to be taken advantage of for his tourist-like innocence. Although coming to think of it, the waiter hadn't let him pay for the food he had so excitedly pushed his way. "But don't you need to finish your expedient or something?" Tom tried, motioning vaguely with a finger to the occupied tables around them. 

"My brothers can take care of it," he said, taking his apron out as if it was nothing. Tom looked away shyly, impressed at the visible physique underneath the waiter's thin shirt. 

~*~

"So," Tom tried, clearing his throat and glancing at the man beside him on the car. "Where are we  going?" 

The waiter, whose name Tom found out was Chris, only shrugged, and Tom's heart jumped. "You don't know?" 

"We can visit the park," Chris said, adjusting the rearview mirror. His car smelt of old leather, rumbling under Tom's feet. He dearly hoped it wouldn't break in the middle of the road. 

"Okay," Tom whispered, trying to calm himself down. "Is it far, this park?"

Chris' answer was a grin, and Tom didn't know how to interpret that. But Chris veered the steering wheel to a dirt road not five minutes later and Tom clutched his backpack against his chest desperately. They were at some sort of forest, tall trees hanging off both the sides of the road. "Where are we?" Tom asked, heart in his throat. This was it. He was going to be murdered in some deep forest known only to natives, his bones buried or thrown in some lake after Chris had finished raping him all he wanted.

Chris pointed to their right and outside Tom's window a wooden plaque announced their arrival at a natural park. Tom could see a small gathering of people at a clearing ahead, where Chris parked the car. Tom breathed out in relief, paying Chris a quick and shy smile after freaking out. 

People were dressed in loose shirts and shorts, trailing one after the other into a small dirt road ahead, but Chris led Tom into a different path. "People come here a lot to hunt and camp," Chris said. 

"Hunt?" Tom asked, cheeks warm when Chris took his wrist to lead him onto a wooden bridge built above a river of dark waters that swam underneath them. 

"Yeah," Chris shrugged, stopping abruptly and almost making Tom's face collide with his shoulder blades. "There," he whispered, ducking and pointing his index finger to somewhere in the river, pulling Tom's shoulder closer.

"What?" Tom mimicked his pose, eyes darting from side to side. But he quickly saw what Chris was pointing to: a group of large and muddy alligators, their tails and maws of a size Tom had never seen before. He screeched, clutching Chris' shirt fearfully. 

"Calm down," Chris laughed, but didn't look bothered with Tom's proximity.

"Can they climb up here?" Tom asked, giving a step back and tugging Chris with him. "Shouldn't we go back? Oh my god-" The planks under his feet looked very unstable now, creaking, Tom's heart beat speeding up. 

"No, they can't." Chris couldn't stop laughing. "Come on," he tugged Tom forward, leading them to the end of the bridge. 

"Uh, Chris, do these animals always hang around here?" Tom tugged on his backpack's strap, trying to look more curious than nervous as he took incredible care with every step he took, not even trusting the twigs and fallen branches scattered around the soil. 

"Well, it's their habitat," Chris explained, taking big steps and eyeing the tree tops like a natural. 

"But," Tom hastened his pace, sidling up to Chris. "Do they, you know, attack people, or... eat them ?"

Chris laughed, "Some of them, yes. I heard they love tourist meat." He added, waggling his eyebrows at Tom.

Tom swatted his arm, letting out an indignant sound. 

They approached a shallow river, and Tom stuck himself to the edge of it as Chris continued forward, water sloshing around his ankles. "Chris," Tom called, eyeing the margins and stones after a nasty animal in camouflage. "Chris, wait."

"Come on, Tom." Chris said, laughing and walking back to take Tom's hand and cross the river with him. Tom secured Chris' wrist with his other hand too, trying to see into the water. "Isn't it dangerous? There can be alligators here too." 

"I don't see any," Chris said, taking a look around and Tom would slap him if he hadn't checked earlier and they were now trapped by a circle of tourist-eating alligators. Tom stumbled on a rock, screeching and almost falling head first into the cold water if Chris hadn't held him. "Did something grab your foot?" Chris asked, laughing and tugging Tom the rest of the way out.

"Shut up." Tom said, clinging to the sleeve of Chris' shirt. He wanted to be mad at Chris for having brought him here to be probably snatched by some foul creature as some sort of sacrifice ritual, but the place was so wildly beautiful, Tom found the words lacking. 

"Hey," Chris said, a hand on Tom's waist. Tom looked around frantically, trying to see whatever other animal Chris had spotted. "Here," Chris said.

"Wow." Tom breathed, Chris tugging him by the hand towards a space where the trees were sparse, and Tom could see a wide river, its waters ensconced by margins full of green, like twin brushes of paint. "It's beautiful." 

They were still holding hands, and though Tom wanted nothing more than to reach for his camera, he didn't want to jostle Chris' hand. But Chris seemed to have other things in mind, letting go and giving some steps ahead, staring at the landscape with a neutral, peaceful expression. Tom glanced at him, but took the opportunity to take his pictures. 

Chris showed him more of the park, and they met a snake on their way back. Tom shrieked and kept his distance but Chris was braver and took the snake in hand. "Are you crazy? It's going to bite you!" Tom said, scandalized with the way Chris so naturally twined the snake's sleek body around his arm. It wasn't too long, but green and thin, with its tongue twisting out of its mouth. 

"Come on, take a picture." Chris said, smiling broadly next to the snake. 

"No, put it down." Tom insisted, but Chris laughed. "I don't need a picture of you and- and  your snake." Tom blushed, trying to look unperturbed with the double meaning. 

Chris grinned. "Want to hold it?" He offered, pushing the snake closer to Tom as if he could possibly  _want to hold it_.

"Oh my god, please no, step back!" Tom shouted quickly, holding both hands up to ward off _Chris'_ _snake_.

"You're no fun, man, no fun." Chris said, laughing and putting the snake back in the soil, where it coiled around itself and rested. 

The sun was rapidly setting, and Chris took Tom's hand again to lead him back to his car while Tom hid a smile. Chris was surprised to find Tom spoke French, and they talked some in the language, but Chris' was a different dialect and Tom didn't understand some of his words. Chris seemed to take advantage of it, and said a full sentence that Tom wasn't able to understand with his accent and quick speaking. "What did you say?" He asked, but Chris just laughed and blushed. "What was it?" Tom insisted, laughing and inching closer.

They finally approached Chris' car, and Tom put his backpack in the passenger seat, but before Chris could go around, Tom closed the door and leaned against it. "So," he began, wishing he hadn't misread the signs altogether and wasn't about to embarrass himself. "Hn, is there any thing else you'd like to show me?" 

Chris smirked and leaned closer. His brow was peppered with small dots of sweat, and when Tom wound his hands around his neck, he found the skin there clammy. But a soft breeze went by and cooled them, Chris ducking with a happy, shy look. They kissed slowly, lazily, and the thought that  everything that happened during this day had led to this delightful end made Tom shudder. Chris was warm against him, smelt of wilderness, his caresses on Tom's skin making him moan. 

It was weird to think that he'd now return to his hotel, where the group that had forgotten him awaited. They wouldn't know how unlucky they were, for in the end Tom had gotten the best guide. Tom chuckled, but was cut short by Chris' lips. 

-


	9. Cherry Lipped Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> : Tom has never been a fan of cherry gums, but as it seems, he learns to like it. 
> 
> Featuring: pre-teens!Tom and Chris. No warnings.

-

 

It starts slowly, with a few people sending him looks before Anne, the most popular girl from their school, strides up to Tom, leaning her hip against his table and eyeing him from under her eyelashes. She twirls the tip of her long blond hair in a finger while smacking a gum, and there's nothing Tom can do other than swallow and stare up at her. He feels eyes on them, and though he's sure no one other than Hugh - his best friend sat beside him - can hear what Anne says, they can still read the words on her lips.

"Do you know Chris?" Anne starts, quickly tilting her head towards the area of the courtyard Tom has been firmly avoiding looking at. He nods, licking his lips and exchanging a quick look with Hugh. "Well," she drawls, an unnerving smirk taking shape on her lips, "he said you're cute."

"Ah," Tom makes, and feels the heat rising up to his face. He's extremely unsure about what to do, but Anne and most of the school who is watching him seems to have a good idea in their minds.

"Do you want to... you know?" Anne asks, bluntly, and Tom takes a moment to digest the meaning behind her new grin and tilt of head. 

"Hm... what?"

"To kiss him."

Tom almost draws back at that, curling his toes inside his socks and shoes. Hugh gasps beside him, and that more than anything leaves Tom with no reaction. Anne only blows her gum and continues to watch him with the same bored stare while Tom gaps for words. "I- I don't know."

She shrugs. "He said he'd like to see you after school."

Tom gulps, turning to Hugh and they share identical impotent stares. 

To have a cool boy from school saying that you're cute and that he wishes to see you after school is enough to shake any kid their age's worlds. The problem is that Tom never imagined he'd ever be the recipient of those words. He was a skinny kid, with a small gap between his two front teeth and fingertips perpetually stained with the yellow salty powder of his Doritos. Chris was a normal looking boy that had begun attracting the girls' eyes when his shoulders broadened slightly and he developed the habit of throwing back his blond bangs that always fell on his forehead. Tom had to admit he also had a small crush on him, but Chris never seemed interested in the way Tom slurped at his soda during lunch or in how he purposefully stared at a distance with a far-away look when he knew Chris's gaze was somewhere in his surroundings. 

And now, this.

"So," Anne says, the tip of her pink shoe beginning to tap on the floor. "Will you do it?"

Tom begins to shrug, but after giving it minimal thought, drops his shoulders and nods. Anne pops her bubblegum when she grins, a hint of teeth before she flicks her hair to the side and murmurs "Cool."

 

~*~

 

Tom folds his hands above his backpack on his lap. His mouth is filling with saliva and he feels nauseous in a way he never had before. The sun is punishing him, a side of his face almost numb with the heat where it hits him. He's sat at the small wooden bench in front of the school, a circle of boys and girls around him. 

"Tom, we bought you candy." One girl says, extending her palm to him where a cherry bubblegum rests.

"Thanks," he makes himself say, reaching for it and cupping the crinckling pink plastic in his clammy hands. Hugh is standing beside him, blinking at Tom from behind his huge glasses as if he couldn't believe he actually knew him. It was unnerving to have so many people watching his every breath but Tom knew these things were similar to spectacles in his school, everyone wanted a first-seat view of the action though none of them was completely aware of how it was done. They all knew couples kissed, so it was a collective work to find two people willing to kiss each other so they could watch and sate their curiosity. 

But Chris suddenly emerges from the gate, reaching a wide hand towards his forehead to throw his bangs back and there's a palpable agitation. "Tom, Tom," another girl nudges his shoulder urgently, "the candy." 

Tom nods, sweat sprouting on his hairline, tearing the flimsy pink plastic with fast fingers and dropping the sweetened pink ball on his tongue. "He's coming," it's Hugh who says it, licking his lips and watching as Chris makes his way towards Tom's bench. There's a commotion of giggles, and everyone steps back as Chris approaches.

Tom remains petrified on his seat, very aware of Chris as he comes to share the bench with him. "Hi," he says, and his breath smells of mint candy. Tom supposes they had also bought him sweets.

"Hi," he replies, seeing his high blush reflected on Chris' cheeks. He seems as nervous as Tom is, shoulders hunched as if he wants to protect himself from the watching eyes. 

"Anne... told you?" Chris asks, and Tom thinks he hears a stifled snicker from somewhere around them. 

"Yes," 

Chris nods. "Okay." 

Tom breaks the gum with his teeth, his mouth being flooded with a cherry syrup as Chris darts his gaze to the awaiting and crowd and finally turns his body in Tom's direction, knees touching. Tom looks down, breathing through his nose quickly, ducking and hunching his shoulders as Chris does the same, elbows supported on his thighs as they inch closer. Tom doesn't dare look at Chris, only blinking and feeling the brush of his eyelashes against Chris' cheek as he comes closer and closer, mint breath against Tom's cherry parted lips. There's an audible gasp around them when Chris valiantly drops a quick peck on Tom's lips, and Tom almost swallows his gum. 

It was quick, and Tom couldn't remember what it felt like, but Chris leans closer again, eyes vacant as if he too just wanted to test the waters. Tom feels lips against his again, pressing, and he blinks at Chris, who also has his eyes opened. They stare at each other, lips glued together until Chris draws back, watching Tom as if waiting for him to do something about it, but Tom only lets himself rest against the bench, flinching when Chris' hand falls over his, equally sweaty, pressing his fingers so tightly.

There's a sudden, cutting horn, and Tom whips his head to the street, where surely, his mother's car is at. "It's my mom," he promptly says, and Chris nods. The other students shrug, visibly disliking how short the whole process had been. Tom grabs his backpack, letting Chris' hand slip from his.

"Bye," Chris says, suddenly, dropping a kiss on his cheek.

"Okay, bye." Tom hurries to say, cheeks aflame, and he feels such an immense heat he thinks he'll melt into a puddle. 

Tom runs to his mother's car, not remembering to say goodbye to Hugh as he opens the door to the backseat and slumps inside.

"Hi, sweetie." His mother greets from the driver's seat, reaching for the air conditioning button. Tom sighs inside the fresh ambience, giving Emma beside him a quick smile as his baby sister gurgles and drools around a toy's head inside her mouth. Sarah is at the passenger seat, playing a game on her cell phone when his mother begins reversing the car, giving a last glance to the small circle of students still standing in front of the school watching him go.

"Where were you, darling? I didn't see you-" His mother says, watching him through the rearview mirror but before Tom can think about something to answer she gasps. "Tom, you know those gums aren't good for your teeth."

Tom licks his lips. "Sorry."

"Oh, darling," his mother sighs, making a face as she extends her hand behind and tells him to spit it. Tom does, Sarah staring from above her seat in the front and making a disgusted face. He watches as the wet and teeth-marked gum lands on his mother's hand and as she tells Sarah to give her the toilet paper in the glove compartment. "Come, I won't tell your father, but no more of these, promise?"

Tom nods silently, and gently folds the pink plastic in his hands. 

 

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	10. Before the World was Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My - very poor attempt - at a MeanGirls!AU:

"What about Chris?" Megan asks, leaning above the sink while applying on her lipstick. 

 

"Totally hot," Cindy, her best friend, replies with a short little chuckle, throwing her hair this way and that while considering her reflection on the mirror. 

 

Megan smiles, recalling Chris' physique. Yes, Cindy was right. Chris _was_ totally hot, and he would never refuse her. 

 

Megan was proud to say she was the most popular girl in school. But then again with her looks it was difficult not to. She couldn't remember a day in her life when walking up the school's hallway didn't turn any heads in her direction, when the fellow students didn't scurry to the side so she could pass, the whispers and gasps she left on her wake. Megan loved attention, she wasn't about to lie. Highschool couldn't have been any different, and now, Megan was often seen with the big and burly boys from the school's football team - the _jocks_ -, cherishing the way they always went after her, with flirty eyes and huge smirks. 

 

 _Chris is from the football team too,_ she thinks, _how come I've never considered him before?_. And gasps, turning on her heels to face Cindy. "How come I've never thought of him before?" 

 

Cindy pauses to look at her, and Megan should really tell her that that shade of eyeshadow didn't match her blouse, but Cindy shrugs, the way she does when she knows Megan isn't about to like what she's going to say. "You mean Hems?" 

 

Megan sighs, tapping her foot on the floor. "Yes, Cindy, what other Chris is there in the football team?" 

 

Cindy shrugs again, and Megan squints at her. "I don't know, but I've heard-" Cindy hesitates, sending Megan a look from the corner of her eye before retrieving her own lipstick and busying herself with it. Megan takes in a collected breath, reaching for Cindy's lipstick with purple nails until taking it out of her grasp. "You've heard...?" she makes, lowly, gaze fixed on Cindy, who sighs, shoulders dropping. 

 

Cindy takes quick looks around, but no girl dares come to the girls bathroom while they are in. "I've heard he's fucking a boy from drama," Cindy finally says, pouting. Megan gaps, and Cindy nods. 

 

"Who?" Megan growls, squeezing the lipstick in her hands. 

 

"That lanky boy," Cindy answers in a slightly breathy voice, eyeing her lipstick fearfully. "With the blond curls." 

 

Megan frowns. She can't seem to remember anyone that might fit Cindy's description, so the boy must be very unimportant. The thought that Chris would trade her for someone that low on the school hierarchy makes her red in the face, and she drops Cindy' lipstick on the sink with a twisted nose and a snarl. "Chris with a lanky boy instead of me?" Megan asks herself, staring at her own reflection in the mirror. She humphs, and throws her hair to the side. "No way." 

 

\- 

 

It's the sound of Megan's heels softly clicking against the floor that makes everyone in the cafeteria pause, a new wave of murmurs coming to life as she walks by with a pout, Cindy following close behind. Megan quickly catches sight of Chris, together with his friends from the football team and a few other people she can't recognize. She strides up to them, coming to a stop behind Chris, whose shoulder she pets with a hand. "Chris," she makes, in her sweetest voice. 

 

Chris turns to her, slightly surprised. "Oh, Megan, hi," he says, and Megan squeezes his shoulder appreciatively. 

 

"Hi, how have you been? It's so good to finally see you, I need to talk to you-" Megan begins, making to take the seat beside Chris', which is already taken, but the boy occupying it doesn't seem to move. Affronted, Megan taps his shoulder and motions for him to go away without barely pausing on her sentence. The boy looks up at her with huge eyes, gulping fearfully as he moves to the side, and Megan squishes herself in between them, turning to Chris with a smile. "About the game this Friday." 

 

"Ah," Chris makes, nodding pathetically while shooting a small look to the boy Megan had shoved aside. "Yes, it will be nice." 

 

" _I_ 'll certainly be there to watch you play," Megan smirks, "You know how much I love football," she giggles, and lays a hand on Chris' shoulder once more. He seems to be a little distracted, flicking his gaze away from a point above Megan's shoulder to look at her with a barely-there smile. "Actually," Megan coos, letting her eyes drop. "I was wondering if you could take me." 

 

"T-Take you?" 

 

Megan lets the stammering slide, revelling instead in the widening of Chris' eyes as a sign of his delighted surprise. "Yes, darling. Josh is having a party at his house afterwards, you know that, don't you?" 

 

Chris opens his mouth, lifting a finger to point at something behind Megan. "Yes, but I'm taking T-" 

 

"Exactly, so we could go together. You can pick me up at five, we'll go to the game and then head to Josh's, it'll be wonderful," Megan nods, giving a little squeal in excitement. "I can't wait for it! I'll keep in touch, don't worry." She stands to place a kiss on the corner of Chris' lip, letting her hair cascade in front of his face so he won't miss the smell of the strawberry shampoo she uses. 

 

Megan walks away, only turning to look over her shoulder once, catching sight of the boy that was once beside Chris, staring at him with a gaping mouth, an utter hurt look on his face. Megan smirks, and hears Cindy hurrying to accompany her pace. 

 

\- 

 

Megan peers into the window, and sees Chris' car coming to a slow stop in front of her house. Smirking, she takes a quick look-over on the full-length mirror, breathing in to adjust the dress' straps tighter around her waist. Taking her sweet time going down the stairs, she gives Gucci, her golden Chihuahua, a goodbye and walks towards Chris in all her graciosity. 

 

"Hello, darl-" she pauses, chin pointed down and mouth gaping when she opens the door to the passenger seat and finds a boy, _the_ boy already in there, seeming as surprised to see her as she was to see him. He stares at her with mild apprehension, but seems to steel himself a little better, and Megan wants so much to scream that she barely hear Chris' diplomatic words from behind the steering wheel. 

 

"Megan, I don't think I had the opportunity to introduce you before, because, well-" Chris gives the boy a quick glance. "This is Tom. He's from the drama club, and he's-" Chris holds the 's' for a while longer, clearly not knowing what Tom was. The boy stiffens a little, sending Chris a quick look Megan can't see from her position, "going to the game with us." Chris finishes brilliantly, and Megan just _looks_ at him. She didn't hang out with people from the _drama club_ , and Chris was _n't supposed to bring his little chew toy to their_ date. 

 

"Hi," the boy, Tom, says, a hand raised in a poor attempt of a wave. Megan is sure she can feel her eyebrow twitching, the corner of her mouth trying to lift in a snarl, but she manages a tiny "Hi," with a nice layer of disdain on top in response, and resigns herself to taking a seat in the _freaking backseat_. 

 

Chris takes himself into the role of peace-maker, the tension inside the car not taking too long to become unbearable. "So, I was talking to Tom about the game." 

 

"Hm," Megan makes, not interested in anything that could involve _Tom_. She can feel her face reddening with madness, and glares at the back of Tom's head, his blond curls and the swan-like paleness of his neck. 

 

"I'm very excited, coach said he'll pay us all a dinner with a plus one if we win today," Chris says, smiling to Tom, and Megan's attention is piqued. "Oh," she makes, and Chris continues. "The other team's coach is an old rival of his. He'll go insane if we don't win this game." 

 

Megan preens, holding her shoulders higher, "I'm sure we will win," she says, and stretches her hand out to lay it on Chris' bicep when _Tom_ smiles and seems about to have something to say, barely opening his mouth before his eyes fall to her hand and he deflates. " _I_ don't settle for less than victory," she declares, sending Tom a cold look. 

 

\- 

 

The stands are slowly filling when Megan takes her seat at the first row, lips turning down when _Tom_ gingerly takes the seat beside hers. He looks out-of-place, eyes flying around the field and the stands, parents and people from town filtering in with popcorns, hot dogs and wide smiles. Megan sucks on a teeth, eyeing him slyly before turning her face away. Tom looks ridiculous, of course, with his arms crossed, wearing a jacket in an old shade of green that is too big for him, eyes a little sad but fierce. 

 

Clearing her throat, Megan wraps her fingers around her knee, stretching her neck to see if Chris is the boy that has come running out of the locker rooms. He isn't. 

 

"Megan," Cindy appears behind them to say, waving enthusiastically. She takes the only seat still available beside Megan, sending Tom an inquiring look. "Did Chris bring you? How sweet," Cindy squealed, and Tom glanced her way before shifting uncomfortably. 

 

"He did, I know, he's such a sweetheart," Megan said, smiling. 

 

Cindy opens her mouth and then they are talking, Cindy spilling all about Josh's latest breakup with a girl from the volleyball team. Megan gasps along, and is momentarily distracted when Tom smiles and waves at the field. Turning her head, she sees Chris, standing in his uniform at the field, smile big, eyes on Tom. Standing, Megan raises her hand and waves at him, blowing him a kiss that has Chris' smile faltering a little. 

 

"Good luck, Chris!" Megan shouts, and sits back, sparing Tom a quick, superior look before staring ahead. Chris waves timidly in return, looking away. 

 

"Oh god, he's totally into you, Megan," Cindy supplies, giggling behind her hands, eyes mirthful before they fell on Tom, and then she stilled and pursed her lips. 

 

Frowning, Megan looked at Tom, but the boy was as still as ever, gripping the sleeves of his jacket in tight, nervous fingers. 

 

"What was it?" She asked Cindy, surreptitiously. 

 

Cindy was fighting to keep her mouth in place to reply. "He rolled his eyes, and smiled. Like, at me, like, at what I said." 

 

Megan stared at her, gaping before huffing. "Impossible. He's a freaking drama nerd, Cindy," she offered in a whisper. 

 

"But I saw it, like, right now, Megan, it's true." 

 

Megan considered it a little, pouting and giving Tom a look from the corner of her eye. He was staring at the field with the same subdued face he wore in the car earlier. 

 

"As I said," Megan turned to murmur over her shoulder to Cindy. "Impossible." 

 

But Cindy was blinking owlishly at Tom. "Wait a minute," she pointed a small finger in Tom's direction, ducking so she and Megan could continue to conspire in whispers. "He's the boy I told you about, the lanky drama boy." 

 

It was Megan's turn to roll her eyes, but she let Cindy continue. "He's the one Chris is fucking," she spared Tom a new, barely impressed look before returning to Megan. "When did he show up?" 

 

At the field, a whistle blew, and the game began, but Megan paid it no mind, she hated football. "You won't believe it," Megan said through gritted teeth, sending Tom a dark look he was too sucked up in the game to notice. "But when Chris showed up to pick me up, _he_ was in the car." 

 

Cindy gasped, her tiny dark curls bobbing. "That means, he- he came with you?" 

 

Megan twisted her lips, nodding precariously. Cindy seemed to take her pains for her, mouth still gaping, eyes wide. "Gosh, Megan, I'm sorry," she said, hand reaching to Megan's forearm. "That must've been horrible, jeez. What a stuck-up brat." 

 

"I know, right?" Megan sighed, grateful someone understood her. "But don't you worry," she smirked, "We are going to Josh's party after this, and Chris won't escape me. While this little ant here," she stopped, shrugging the shoulder closest to Tom, "Will be mush under my shoe." 

 

\- 

 

They win, incredibly. 

 

Chris made the deciding goal of the match, running in victory as the audience stood and clapped, sending a look their way, eyes on Tom but Megan screeched and jumped, saying to everyone around them that Chris had dedicated the goal to her. Tom's twinkling eyes and big smile dissipated after that, gulping and opening his mouth like he wished to say something, to revoke his right over the winning goal, but he flapped his lips shut once Megan breathed in sharply and turned to him with challenging eyes. 

 

The rival team's coach goes stomping away, face red, and their school's team gather to thank the crowd and its support before shouting their way back to the locker rooms, Chris among them. They take some time until managing to get out of the stands, and Tom goes to stand next to the locker room's exit along with Megan and Cindy. He definitely doesn't fit in in his ugly jacket, some of the cheerleaders that date the players sending him funny looks. Megan stays two feet away. 

 

Some other players filter out of the locker room, greeting everyone and kissing their girlfriends in grand sweeps, and Tom steps back, looking at it all a little lostly. When Chris shows up at the threshold, though, he beams, but Megan is faster, and wraps her arms around Chris' shoulders to congratulate him. His friends and teammates also show up to pat him on his back, and Chris laughs and thanks them, hair wet, smelling clean. Megan makes an effort to stay glued to his side, but while she's distracted talking to Cindy for a minimum second, she looks away to find him talking to Tom quietly, the boy smiling quizzically before hugging Chris' chest, and as Megan marches towards them to interrupt she hears his pathetically breathy "You were amazing," to Chris. 

 

They look away from each other to turn to her, who stands between the two of them before smiling charmingly up at Chris. "So, darling, shouldn't we head to Josh's?" 

 

"Oh, sure," Chris says, clearing his throat and getting his car keys. 

 

Megan follows on his heels, trying to take Chris' hand in hers but something makes her trip. "God, what was that?" She asks, affronted, trying to look down at what had stood in the way but not quite managing to see very well in the dark. 

 

"Oh," Tom makes, taking a quick look down. "A stone, I think." 

 

Megan huffs and rolls her eyes, glad to at least have Chris' attention as she smiles and continues on their way. 

 

\- 

 

Josh's house is infested with people from the game, and they all part as best as they can as Megan makes her way inside with Chris, Tom in tow, squirming timidly. It's good to have attention bestowed upon her again, and Megan rests her head on Chris' shoulder when his friends show up to congratulate him. "I know, he was wonderful, wasn't he?" She says, beaming up at Chris, who grins quickly before searching for someone with his eyes. "I told him he'd do fine, but he didn't believe me," she continued, and all of Chris' friends nod and turn curious eyes to him. 

 

Chris smiles and excuses himself. Megan's smile falters, even more so when she sees he's headed in Tom's direction, Tom looking up at him with huge eyes before saying something she can't hear over the music. 

 

Chris' friends are still staring at her, and she smirks candidly up at them. 

 

\- 

 

If Megan had a knife, its blade would've found Tom's ribs a long time ago, she thinks as she walks towards the spot where Tom and Chris are standing, squinting at the wide hand Chris has on Tom's hip, at the free and idiotic way they are staring at each other. What was up with that boy anyway? He wasn't popular, he wasn't interesting, he didn't even look good, at least not as good as Megan did, and yet all Chris seemed to know was about how 'Tom' was very funny, how 'Tom' was so smart. 

 

When Megan steps up to them, Tom eyes her, really _eyes_ her, and for the first time, Megan thinks that the knife thought hadn't only crossed her mind. It makes her raise her eyebrows, and she doesn't take her eyes away from Tom's when she slips an arm around Chris possessively. "Sorry, sweetheart, but I need to talk to Chris about something important," she says, and watches the way Tom gapes after a suitable reply. She doesn't give him time to find it, of course, and pulls Chris away to the other side of the room, dodging dancing people and their sloshing cups filled with spiked red punch. 

 

"Megan, I-" Chris says, being reluctantly carried away by his arm, looking over his shoulder at Tom's far away figure, still holding his own punch in a little grip, watching them go with glazy eyes. 

 

"Shh, darling," Megan makes, and stops once they are a good distance away. Chris is looking at her as though he wants to say something very mean, but Megan stands on her toes to press a finger to his mouth. "Listen, I know you probably didn't think about it, but you can't go hanging around people from the drama club," the way she says that shows her disrespect for it. 

 

"Why not? I like dra-" 

 

"Oh, darling, please," Megan shakes her head at his naivety. "Look, I know that it's hard to find someone in drama who doesn't a have a face covered in acne," Chris' nostrils flare, but he waits until she finishes. "And Tom is okay," she lies, "But he isn't able to handle you, he likes books, doesn't he? So let's leave him with them." 

 

Chris just blinks. "That's not even a reasonable argument." 

 

Megan laughs, "You sound just like a drama worm now." 

 

"Look," Chris pulls his bicep away from her hands. "I don't know what-" but he's interrupted by Megan's screech when someone knocks a shoulder with hers, and suddenly, her _white_ dress is immersed in blood red punch. 

 

Chris gives a step away, everyone gives a step away. The music stops. 

 

Megan can only stare at her dress, breaths coming out short. Slowly, she comes to her senses, lips drawn in a snarl as she looks up to find _idiotic_ Tom, with his empty cup in hand, just _looking_ at her as if she was nothing, a passing landscape on a car trip. 

 

" _You_ ," she hisses, and Megan swears she will pulverize him with her eyes alone, but _deceitful_ Tom's lips quirk up slowly, and he breathes a small, completely unapologetic "Ops." 

 

Megan supposes everyone at the party is as surprised as she is. Tom takes Chris' hand in his, levelling her with one of his own superior looks. Megan had never had competition when it came to her superior looks. "Megan, wasn't it?" Tom asks, tilting his head to the side, not seeming to care that her mouth was now hanging open. "I advise you into looking for some form of education as it seems you could use it to fill the abundance of space in your head." There's a collective gasp, but Tom doesn't seem to mind. Chris fights to keep a smile away from his face. "In the way there, you could mind your own business for a change," Tom finished, and resolutely led Chris away, his back to Megan as Chris proceeded to devour Tom's mouth in a corner. 

 

She stands in her drenched dress and thinks of revenge, but somehow it seems the party is over for her.


	11. How to Tame the Wild Ones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (sorry, I couldn't make a summary for this)
> 
>  **Warnings** : rough manhandling (briefly), sex. **Explicit rating**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just the craziest thing I've ever written. It's also very ridiculous and not to be taken seriously.

The afternoon is drawing to an end, and the television frames a good looking woman with wavy dark hair as she smiles at the camera. She doubted anyone was interested in the latest new: a platypus kept in a zoo in New Zealand that is alleged to be able to communicate with humans. Regardless, the woman smiles and looks straight at the camera. "Next, our most special reporter brings us news on Willy, the zebra," she widens her eyes in fake excitement, and swivels her chair to face the panel beside her, which is suddenly showing a pale, thin-faced man, who is holding his microphone eagerly and staring dreamily at the camera. "Hello, Tom, now tells us, what is Willy up to today?" 

 

There's a pause, a silence as the host waits for Tom's answer, that only comes when a thumb motions in front of the camera, and a grumpy voice calls "we're on, Tom". 

 

Tom startles, "Oh, hello, Veronica," he says, and the host nods with a grimace. Her name was Vicky. "Well, Willy is behaving quite differently today," Tom continues gracefully, and the camera follows him as he makes his way further into a field with grass tall enough to reach his knees. "His caretaker has told us that he's on his mating cycle, so our old, friendly Willy is very impatient. I've brought a biscuit," Tom raises it to camera level, "so let's see how Willy reacts to it." 

 

The camera focuses on a lonely zebra standing at a distance, its stripped body gleaming under the weak sunlight as the animal surveilled Tom's approach neutrally. Tom looks nervous, glancing quickly at the camera with a twitchy smile, freezing on his feet and extending his biscuit with a long arm. "Here, Willy, Willy," he calls shakily, but gives an automatic step back as the zebra moves toward him. Tom stares at the camera again, giving a fake, weak laugh. 

 

"F-For those who don't remember it, Willy... Willy is a very calm zebra, he's been our friend for years, right, Willy?" He stares intently at the zebra, that is now so close that its snout stands inches away from Tom's outstretched hand. Willy sniffs at Tom's hand, opens its mouth full of straight white teeth and bites. 

 

Tom jumps back with a shriek, and the camera-man seems to have tripped over something in his haste to pull back, the camera swinging out of focus. "Tom?" Asks Vicky, who glances and smiles tentatively at her own camera as they turn back to Tom, who is now battering the muddy knees of his jeans where it seemed he had fallen. He holds the microphone in a shaky grip, and muttered something feebly under his breath as he looked up at the camera. "Hi, Veronica, uh, as you can see Willy is distressed." 

 

Willy could be seen a few feet away, staring fixedly at Tom. "But Paul, the caretaker, was here and... oh my god," Tom broke off, because Willy was coming back in a quick pace, and a portly man dressed in green clothes was fumbling to get a hold of Willy. "Er, that's it, Veronica, I think we'r-" Tom shivered, shutting his eyes as Willy escaped the caretaker and crowded over him, sniffing his person after more biscuits, hoarse, panting sounds coming from the animal as it tried to climb the reporter. 

 

The camera bounced and Tom screeched for the last time as the host, Vicky, came back into focus. She grinned, cheeks tinted pink. "Well, thank you, Tom... Next-" 

 

\- 

 

Tom flung his bag over the mattress with a dull thud. He hated his job. 

 

Josh, the greasy, insufferable camera-man Tom had as company, had laughed his head off, and Tom spent the rest of the day wallowing in his fury, finally dodging Josh to climb up the stairs to his room on the old rickety hotel they were staying at. Groaning, Tom opened his bag, extracting his cartons of apple juice and storing them at the buzzing refrigerator in the corner of the room. 

 

They had said he'd be able to travel, but had never mentioned the poor company he'd have or the non-exciting places he'd have to go to. Remembering his deal with the television channel now, Tom supposed he could have made a better bargain, could've achieved a better position. Like Veronica's, as a host. His mother would have been so proud. 

 

He smelt like mud and zebra shit, and began to undress, peeling his jacket away, it having been ruined by Willy and his extra-careful handling of a human being. Tom snorted, pouting and toeing off his shoes. He felt a cold drop on his shoulder, and examined the ceiling to find a drip looming over him. Tom rolled his eyes. This was _just_ the sort of hotel the channel would afford his team of freaks. 

 

"Ugh," Tom made a face at his now ruined jeans, pulling them off for an inspection. Willy had bitten his rear, and now his trousers had a huge tear like an open maw, the tissue flapping uselessly like a bib. Tom's boxers, star-spangled yellow, had been visible, and he pouted even more when remembering Josh's taunts. 

 

A floorboard creaked, but Tom crouched to take an apple juice from the refrigerator. It wasn't cold yet, but Tom was angry and the only thing that calmed him down was the comforting slurping of his carton. Tom stood, biting the end of his straw as he drank up, starting to hum Sponge Bob's opening tune when he felt it. The dark, looming presence in his room. 

 

Tom gasped, turned on his heels with a gasp, eyes round. His apple juice carton hit the floor, squishing juice on the floorboards. 

 

"Hello, pretty thing," came the deep voice from the other side of the room, a gun held straight to Tom's head. 

 

Tom sputtered after words, eyes falling to the gun's barrel automatically. 

 

"Miss me?" The man tilted his head, eyes glinting dangerously. 

 

Tom's heart hammered his chest, a cold creeping over him. His zebra problems seemed miles and miles away from the sudden death that was to snatch him. "C-Chris," he mumbled, face draining of all color. "I-I didn't-" 

 

"Didn't expect me to come back after you?" Chris completed for him, his grip not faltering on his gun. He towered over Tom, his biceps fuller than Tom remembered them ever being. "Hn?" Chris prompted with a jab of his gun, teeth bared. Tom whimpered in fear, giving a step back and almost knocking over the small table at the corner. Tom was closer to the door, no mind that he was in a shirt and boxers, no one would blame him for running around the hotel once they found out Tom's most-wanted-outlaw of an ex-boyfriend had come to get his revenge. 

 

"You expected me to be running, Tom? Did you?" Chris snarled, and as though reading Tom's mind, dropped his grimace. "You run through that door and I'll shoot you so fast you'll be dead before you can shriek ever again." 

 

Tom swallowed back his shriek. He was shaking all over, and braced himself. "Ch-Chris, p-p-please..." He pleaded, feeling his knees bucking. 

 

Chris licked his lips, taking a step forward. Tom felt hot tears spilling down his cheeks, and shut his eyes when he felt Chris's rough hands grabbing his wrists and forcing him to fall flat on the bed. He whimpered, drawing his shoulders in. Chris stood in front of him, and Tom felt the cold barrel of the gun pressing against his temple. "C-Chris, pleas- I-I'll do..." 

 

"Do what?" Chris vociferated. "What will you do, Tom? You think you can offer me something that will make me change my mind about killing you?" 

 

Tom babbled, and Chris frowned, tilting his face up with the tip of his gun. "What did you say?" He asked, almost carefully. 

 

Tom shook some more, his jaw wobbling as he slowly opened his eyes, cowering at the image of Chris. "I-I'll give you... g-give you a b-blowjob." 

 

Chris blinked at him, expressionless. He remained silent, and Tom thought he was really considering it until he shouted "What?" 

 

"A-A blow-" 

 

"I heard you the first time," Chris said, rolling his eyes and staring up at the ceiling with a shake of his head. "I can't believe you, Tom, I really, really can't believe you," Chris was saying with a deadpanned face. "You betrayed me, you handed me over to the press in exchange of a _pathetic_ job as some... as some..." Chris was having difficulty to actually define what Tom did for a living. 

 

"A w-wildlife reporter," Tom murmured helpfully. 

 

"That's not what you do!" Chris cut him, rather loudly, and Tom shut his eyes again, bracing himself. "You-You gave me up, gave us up," Chris was saying in a voice that was getting shakier. Tom opened one eye to see if he was faltering, but Chris squared his jaw, and prodded Tom with his gun again. Tom weeped, falling back on the bed in fetal position. "You sold me so you could go pet animals and you're terrible at it!" Chris was shaking. It seemed remembering the whole ordeal of his and Tom's separation was still a traumatic experience to him. "And now you offer a blowjob as if it could go and get everything fixed, but it can't. I don't want your filthy, treacherous, lying, cunning and- and," Chris tightened his grip on the gun, still pointed at Tom's head where he was lying on the mattress, hands over his face but peeking through his fingers up at Chris. "And lying, and-" Chris's eyes had fallen to Tom's bum in that ridiculous, pathetic, childish and cute boxers that had been a gift from Chris. "And... the point is I don't want your terrible mouth sucking my cock." Chris finished with a determined, self-assured expression. 

 

"Chr-Chris, please, I- they made me," Tom was whispering, wide blue eyes looking up at Chris, that unnerving nest of blond little curls splayed on the mattress. He knows how much Chris likes seeing him like this, with his lips wet and red from his last apple juice helping, with his childish boxers like the one with the flying cars and the pointy-eared goblins, with his exaggerated squeamishness and terrified shrieks that had won Chris in the first place. And he's doing it on purpose, Chris is sure, he wants Chris to falter, but Chris won't falter. 

 

"Don't you come with that, Tom, they didn't make you do anything, you told them because you wanted a half-arsed job instead of me," Chris said, fitting the barrel under Tom's chin. 

 

Tom swallowed, staring up at Chris, tear-stained cheeks and slowly spreading legs. See? Chris said he was doing it on purpose, he was panting up at Chris and whimpering, he was squirming in the mattress with those long pale legs, his perfect little round bum enclosed in his cute boxers, and that retarded shirt with a smiling zebra on it was riding up to show his pale tummy and small navel. 

 

"Chris-" 

 

"Why?" Chris asked, kneeling on the mattress between Tom's legs. "Why did you do that to me, Tom? You were _my_ Tom, you- I loved you." 

 

Tom was crying again. "I-I didn't want to, but- but Mom called, and-" 

 

"You told your mom?" Chris paled, standing with a roar and pulling Tom up by the scruff of his neck. Tom whimpered weakly, gasping for breath and waving his arms around until settling them on Chris' chest, hands fumbling with the lapels of Chris' leather jacket. 

 

Chris pressed their bodies closer together, he couldn't resist Tom's fumblings or the way he waved his arms lostly and shrieked, it was adorable. But he was here on business. Tom had done something bad- something very bad, and Chris had to make him pay, pay with his blood and... Maybe just one tiny blowjob? Chris shook his head fervently, he couldn't let Tom seduce him again, he was a criminal, he killed several people. And Tom would be one of them... but Tom was so _Tom_. Tom was his little fluffy blond ball of energy. Chris missed his patheticness, missed shooting people Tom disliked or that were bad to him or that thought him meek. Missed Tom's pert little bum and his small sounds and his apple juice flavored kisses. The way he adorably slurped at his straw like a kid. 

 

Chris swallowed, it was getting harder to resist. But if Tom had told Mom... 

 

"M-Mom wanted to s-see me, Chris, she, she said she would give me more apple juice and- and I went, Chris." 

 

"Shit," Chris said through gritted teeth. That old, scary bat, how could she have trapped Tom like that? She knew all of Tom's weaknesses. Knew Tom was Chris's weakness, but her desire to see her only son away from his boyfriend just because he was a killer and an outlaw was enough to make her _do anything, right?_ She was an unfair woman, and Chris had always had a reason to fear Mom. If only he could have unmasked her before she got to his Tom. His innocent Tom. 

 

"S-She said I had to- to get a job, and that," Tom paused, sniffling. There was snoot running down his nose in his haste, and Chris wanted to lick it away from him. "That you weren't good for me," Tom's face scrunched up and he cried. 

 

Chris stared at him, white with shock, trying to make sense of everything Tom'd said. "But how- how could you believe her, Tom? I- I loved you." 

 

"I know, Chris, I-I..., she," he weeped, "she was awful to me, and- and she called her friend who worked on this channel, and said that- that I knew where you were hidden. They made me tell them and said I could b-be a wildlife reporter because Mom told them I liked wild animals," he gave a great sniff, his teary blue eyes on Chris. "But I don't like them now, Chris," he confessed, hands fisting the lapels of Chris's jacket. "They're scary and they bite a lot. Did you see Willy today?" 

 

Chris nodded. How could he forget that damn zebra trying to climb _his_ Tom? No one but Chris watched Tom's stupid program. "H-He bit me," Tom shrieked, and Chris gritted his teeth. 

 

"That motherfucker of a zebra," he said, and Tom nodded, pulling his hand to show it to Chris. There was a scratch on his finger. Chris gasped. 

 

"I-I was only trying to- to give it a biscuit and look what it's done," Tom said, "he was going to eat me, I'm sure." 

 

Chris was shaking his head furiously, "If I had been there, Tom, if I had been there..." 

 

Tom pouted, and there was silence. "Chris, I'm sorry," he said, wringing the hand he had on Chris' chest. "Mom is so..." 

 

"I know," Chris nodded, bringing Tom's scratched finger up to kiss it better. He looked up at Tom, and they exchanged a meaningful look. Chris grinned, determined, and threw his gun to the floor where it fell loudly next to Tom's forgotten apple juice carton. Tom was staring at it. "There were no bullets," Chris confessed, and swept Tom's teary face up in his hands, thumbs swiping his tears away. 

 

"Oh, Chris," Tom sighed, and hugged him close. Tom fell back, letting Chris's body fall on top of him on the bed. They kissed, Chris's hands running up and down Tom's lithe body, the space between Tom's inner thighs falling open beside him, bracketing Chris's hips, that undulate and press Tom further on the bed. "I knew it," Tom was gasping, head lolling as Chris attacked his neck. "I knew we'd end up having hot steamy sex," he clawed his fingers on Chris's leather jacket, and soon they were both helping Chris out of his clothes. 

 

Tom salivated at the image of him. "You're stronger... bigger," he said in awe, sliding his hands up Chris' arms and torso reverently, sizing him up. 

 

"Yeah, I-" Chris flushed, cupping Tom's hands in his own. "I wanted to impress you." 

 

Tom looked up at him with his wide blue eyes. His face scrunched up again, "oh, Chris, I love you so much." 

 

Chris fell over him, humping Tom's body. There was a cloud swimming in his mind, all he cared about was the taste of apple juice of Tom's lips, the perfect fit of his round buttocks on Chris's hands, the way he let out breathy little "Chris, Chris". Feeling both their lengths hardening under his thrusts, Chris jammed his hands inside Tom's boxers, whose back arched with a broken moan. 

 

Chris felt around his crack, fingers finding the adorable pucker between his cheeks. "Chris, please, please, yes," Tom was saying. Chris groaned, he just loved Tom so much. He slid Tom's boxers down his legs, and when Tom looked up at him, Chris buried his face on the material, feeling the heavy scent of _Tom_ there. 

 

Tom squirmed, and Chris almost came on the spot. "Chris, love," Tom opened his arms, and Chris fell back over him, drowning his face in kisses. 

 

Tom urged him on, wrapping Chris's hand around his shaft. Tom keened, throwing his head back, and Chris watched, transfixed, as Tom pumped himself, lodging his feet on the edge of the mattress and fucking up into Chris's fist. 

 

Chris's own erection throbbed, and with much effort, left Tom to procure anything that might serve as lube. He raided the bathroom, small enough that Chris almost didn't fit inside. He found liquid soap, and flew back to the bed. 

 

Tom was writhing on the mattress, his own hand wrapped around his red, pretty cock, balls flapping, the head wet at the tip, and Chris ran toward him, splattering soap all around as he dug a finger in and Tom cried out. 

 

"Ahn, Chris," Tom was babbling, throwing his head from side to side. He was tight around Chris's finger, and it made him giddy, that Tom was so perfect for him. 

 

Soon, he had all three fingers in, and Tom hurried him by wrapping his other hand around Chris's cock. They moaned out loud, and Chris hurried to push in. He saw stars. Nothing could ever compare to Tom's heat and tightness, the sweet core of him. 

 

Chris pumped into him, biting his bottom lip as he went and went and went and Tom dug to the covers, body heaving and jumping with every thrust. His zebra shirt clung to his chest with his sweat, and Chris turned him on his chest, holding Tom's hips fiercely as he buried himself yet again, gaining speed. Chris watched the adorable way the back of Tom's shirt flapped over his back, his buttocks jumping and bouncing as Chris's cock dug into his hole again and again. 

 

Tom spilled heavily onto the covers, and he tightened around Chris deliciously. Seeing how wild Tom gets makes Chris build up speed and soon enough he's spilling inside him, maintaining his hips glued to Tom's rear. 

 

They fall to the bed afterwards, and Chris pulls another apple juice from the refrigerator to give it to Tom. Tom's eyes glisten, and he sucks at his straw excitedly, a leg thrown over Chris's body. 

 

Tom finishes his juice, and nuzzles the side of Chris's neck with a pout. 

 

"What is it, love?" 

 

Tom shrugs. "It's just that... you're right, I'm not good as a wildlife reporter. Actually," he sighs, "I'm not good at anything." 

 

Chris gasps. "Don't say that, baby," he turns to look at Tom. "You're good at a lot of things." 

 

"Like what?" Tom pouts. 

 

Chris smirks. "Well, you're good in blowjobs, in doggy and reverse cowgirl." 

 

Tom smiles tearfully. He squirms in embarrassment. "Do you think so?", he asks softly. 

 

Chris grins, and lays a kiss on the tip of Tom's nose. "I know so."


	12. I told you to stay

There seems to be something wrong with his day when Chris isn't awakened by his alarm but to the sound of soft, joyful humming coming from beside him on the bed. At first, Chris frowns, body tense under the sheets as he tries to make out _what the hell_ is going on and why someone, _anyone_ , would have a reason to be lying next to him, on his bed, on a Monday morning, humming. And then it comes to him: blurry images of the interior of a club downtown, a nice looking man making his way towards him much like the way Chris figured only happened in movies or in odd video clips. There was alcohol involved, of course, Chris' head wouldn't be feeling so heavy and his skull so tight if there wasn't. There was also lots of making out, then an impatient Chris inviting the handsome strnager to his flat which inevitably led to sex. It wasn't the worst recollection of a drunk night out Chris had ever had.

Expect now the guy was apparently still on his bed. 

Chris turns slowly, groaning and stretching to make it look like he hadn't been awake all this time. He blinks his eyes open to the sight of a slightly familiar man with blond curls and a lean body sat on the edge of his bed. He's wearing one of Chris' boxers, it seems, and smiles back at him unashamedly, not at all mitigated to be giving a stranger he had been intimate with while drunk such an expanse of bare skin to see. On one hand he cradles a mug and on the other he's got his cell phone on. 

"Good morning," he smiles down at Chris. 

Great. Drunk-Chris always had a thing for picking out guys who were all happy and springly on the mornings. "Hn, hey," Chris scratches his face and sits up. The man's eyes scurry down the length of his chest, and Chris would blush if he wasn't aware that yes, he was considered very physicaly attractive by female and male population alike. 

"I hope you don't mind but I used your shower and borrowed your clothes," the man says, bringing the mug up for a sip, "oh, and I made coffee as well."

Indeed, there's a faint smell of coffee lingering in the room, and Chris smiles despite of himself. "It's alright." He knows he's completely naked underneath the covers, and waits for his companion to get the idea to make himself scarce so Chris can finally get up. 

Instead he only smiles wider, taking a quick look down at his phone. "Uh, I don't know how to say this. I didn't want to wake you up but I've got an audition in like, fifteen minutes."

"Ah," Chris makes, and hopes it sounds disappointed enough. "That's fine."

The man shrugs shyly, and there's flicker inside Chris, a recognition. Oh god, he had chosen alright last night. He was just Chris' type, shy and adorable. And he stayed the night, so he possibly didn't want to make this into a emotionless trade. Emboldened, Chris clears his throat, trying to think up of something to say that would make the man stay and consider him something more than an a drunk asshole he'd slept with the night before. But the man stands up and makes his way to the corner where their clothes were haphazardly thrown together.

"I'll hail a taxi then. I had a wonderful night yesterday," he smiles back at Chris, who tears his gaze hastefully away from his ass. "Thanks."

"Wait," Chris holds up a hand, the man pausing on the door with a quizzical expression on. "I think- Maybe I can give you a ride."

-

His name is Tom and he's auditioning for a scholarship in Julliard. "I play the piano," he supplies from Chris' passenger seat. "Always have, since I was a little boy."

Chris nods. Tom is a bit talkative, but he's also pretty and immune to nudity and Chris thinks he's probably crazy but there's something very sexy in him that he can't quite point out. "I came to New York all by myself for this. You must've noticed I'm not from here."

Chris had. "England, right?"

Tom looks surprised, which is strangely dumb because it's so obvious. "Yes. I usually make tea instead of coffee but since you had none on your cabinets..."

Chris makes a mental note to buy himself tea if he were ever able to get Tom to sleep at his flat again. "I've worked with a couple British people before."

"Really? What do you do?"

Chris stops at a red light. Tom doesn't look much too worried with the clock, which Chris figures he should if he had come all the way from England for this audition. "I'm an engineer."

"Wow," Tom pauses, stares straight ahead through the windshield. "My father wanted me to become an engineer. Then a lawyer when it was obvious I showed no aptitude for maths. And then he had no more expectations once I told him I wanted to do music."

Chris blinks, and waits a beat before turning to look at Tom. He didn't look like he was about to cry, but had that same odd expression that people wore when realizing they had blurted their personal problems to a complete stranger, surprised with how easy it had been.

Chris waits until Tom is looking at him. "That's amazing, Tom. You're very brave."

-

Chris wasn't supposed to be doing this. He was supposed to be at work now, filtering through his latest projects, and yet he's standing backstage next to Tom, his one night stand, waiting for his name to be called up. He had thought about leaving, but something in Tom's eyes pleaded him not to. He seemed lonely, by himself in a big, foreign city, wanting a chance to do what he loved and no one to support him. Chris could play that role, for fifteen or maybe twenty minutes. Even if it was none of his business. It cost him nothing, but he could gain something from it. A scrawled telephone number was what he was going for.

Tom's fingers were shaking, and he laughed and hid them on his pockets when Chris pointed it out. He was gnawing on his bottom lip, eyes flickering nervously to the other students, accompanied by their family and friends.

"Chris?" he turned to ask suddenly. "Can I ask you for a favor?"

"Sure."

"Can you kiss me?" he asks, and Chris' heart seems to trip on its beat. "It's just- I'm so nervous and-"

Chris takes a look around. No one is paying attention to them, Tom mumbling excuses non-stop. He leans down, and Tom stops. He tips Tom's chin up with his thumb and feels a rush of warm breath on his lips when Tom exhales, his eyelids flickering when his eyes fall shut. Chris lets their lips touch, Tom's soft and pliant under his own, the movement dragging slowly between them until Chris is licking into his mouth. He feels deranged for kissing an enchanting young man on a Monday morning when he should be working. But Tom seems to be bigger than any responsability right now, a magnetic field that distorts everything in his direction. 

Tom clings to his collar, earnest. Someone calls out his name loudly, and Chris can feel eyes on them. Yet they part slowly, Tom opening his eyes and just _looking right back at him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is very hurried and short, I hope you don't mind. I was feeling like writing and though I feel like it most of the time this is the first time I actually got time to. Thanks for reading!


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